


Give Me All Your Midnights

by Tuesdayschildd



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Betty and jughead are engaged, Business, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Heartache, Kevin smells really good, M/M, New York City, josie is an amazing singer, lemon drops, toni is preggo, umbrellas and acid reflux, varchie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-08-11 01:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16465922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuesdayschildd/pseuds/Tuesdayschildd
Summary: Veronica Lodge is a prominent, independent, successful entrepreneur in NYC when she meets up and coming LA song writer Archie Andrews by chance one evening. Persistent fate won’t let her keep walking away, no matter how hard she tries.———Betty is living her dream as a journalist. Kevin is the amazing best friend just looking for love. Cheryl and Toni are procreating. Josie is climbing the billboards.





	1. Lemon Drop

 A martini glass appeared out of nowhere in front of her, a curled lemon peel decorating the sugar coated rim - the bright yellow a stark contrast to the otherwise dark and muted shadows of her surroundings.   
  
Veronica looked up over the edge of the old fashioned glass in her hand as she finished the last of her manhattan, meeting the eyes of the bartender with confusion.   
  
“Lemon drop. From the redhead across the bar. He tried to send you an _appletini_ , but I negotiated the naive man down to this.” He added with a coy smile, “Poor guy has no clue what he’s in for.”   
  
She frequented this bar after work, specifically for those dark and muted surroundings, and John the bartender, known to his pals as Fangs, knew very well what she did and didn’t drink. Manhattans, old fashions, sometimes bourbon straight up, but rarely anything with fruit in its name, and definitely, _definitely_ no sugar rim.   
  
“I thought you could use some sugar tonight, Boss. Both figuratively _and_ literally.”   
  
Veronica plucked the cherry out of her drink, pulled the berry off with her teeth, and flicked the stem at him. He stepped back as it hit him in the stomach and clutched a hand to his chest, feigning shock.   
  
“You know,” she started, chewing the fruit, “You’d think you’d be a little more careful how you talk to the _owner_.” She tried glaring at him as she swallowed, but the extra-mischievous look in her eyes called her bluff.   
  
“Okay, okay. I retreat,” he said, hands up. “Just maybe give this one a chance. He’s hot and a little lost. In town from LA. And you _know_ how I feel about _Californians_ ,” he added with a wistful look behind him, before moving down the bar to help a new customer.   
  
The aforementioned redhead appeared in her vision on the other side of the bar, sitting directly across from her. She hadn’t noticed him before the drink arrived, her head tucked into her phone answering endless emails and confirming nonsensical meetings on her calendar as background jazz music played on over the speakers.  
  
He was staring at her, slightly flushed, with the corner of his mouth turned up. His hair was styled, but messy in that “I woke up like this” way that men had - white Oxford shirt with a few upper buttons undone, extremely handsome with a strong jaw and broad shoulders, probably in his mid 20s. A little too earnest looking, a little exhausted, definitively not one of those _love ‘em and leave ‘em_ cocky types just looking for quick tryst.   
  
Which was unfortunate - she was not really in the mood for flirting, and definitely not in the market for a man.   
  
Not to be rude, she picked up the martini and lifted it in his direction with a slight nod and a smile before sipping it, trying hard not to make a face as first the sweet, than the sour, liquid hit her taste buds. Fangs had been skimpy on the simple syrup, which made the drink almost tolerable so long as she avoided the large sugar crystals on the rim for the next sips.   
  
_Strangers in the night_  
_Exchanging glances_  
_Wondering in the night_  
_What were the chances_  
  
The liquid she swallowed down to get off her tongue made a detour to her airway as she recognized the song playing over the speakers. She had half a mind to call Fangs over and slap him for the song choice that had his name all over it, an oddity amongst her prescribed usual low profile piano jazz playlist. Of course she would have to be breathing in order to do that, and her body was currently attempting to cough up her lungs.   
  
Down the bar, the culprit’s eyebrows shot up in surprise a second before he started filling a glass with water, though unhurriedly. Before Fangs could make it over to her, another glass of ice water appeared directly in front of her face accompanied by a warm, comforting hand on her back.   
  
“Here, drink,” a soft voice encouraged and she didn’t hesitate in reaching for the elixir of life and gulping it down like her throat was on fire. A few more coughs and she was finally able to breathe, wiping the tears from her eyes as the blessed air filled her lungs. She drained the rest of the glass and placed it gently on the bar, thoroughly mortified and red faced at this point as she turned to her savior who, of course, was her redheaded admirer.   
  
“Are you okay?” He said softly, slipping into the empty stool next to hers, eyes full of concern. His voice had that comforting allure that made you want to curl up under blankets with it.  
  
“Physically? Yes,” she replied. “Am I crazy embarrassed right now? Also, yes.” Pulling a tissue out of her purse, she dabbed under her eyes. She prayed her waterproof mascara had held and she didn’t look like a drowned rat.   
  
Fangs finally made it over with his un-apologetically slowly filled glass of water, sliding it down the bar the last foot as if he didn’t want to get too close. It skidded across the bar top obnoxiously, earning him another glare, but she held her tongue in present company as Fangs turned back to his other customers.   
  
Her handsome savior smiled, just the hint of dimples on his cheeks making her heart twist in that nonsense way she hated. “Don’t be. Happens to everyone.”   
  
“I hope that water wasn’t roofied, though I doubt you’d have time to do that so quickly before coming to my rescue.” She peeked a quick look over at him to gauge his response before she turned to dig around for a mirror in her purse on the other seat. She meant it to be a biting retort, but her imbedded sense of sarcasm and wit had her unfortunately saying it out the side of her mouth with the hint of a smirk. She just couldn’t help herself. His responsive laugh secretly pleased her. Though had he been offended, it would have been easier to get rid of him.   
  
“Nope, sorry. Untainted water. Unless someone was trying to roofie _me_ , then we’re both going down.” He rested his hand on the edge of the bar with his leg perched on the foot rest, trying to look way too casual for the nervous jitteriness about him otherwise. It was endearing, but also made this a bit harder for her.  
  
Finding the compact in her bag, she quickly turned away from him to check her makeup. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the market for anything right now.” Her dark chocolate eyes reflected back at her, her makeup still perfectly in place. Satisfied, she plopped the mirror back in her purse.   
  
He remained silent until she finished and turned back towards him. His sad expression hit her in the gut like a belly ache.   
  
“Sorry if I scared you off.” He said as he got up with a casual shrug, a contrast to his sad eyes, starting to step away. “Have a good night.”   
  
With a mind of its own, her hand shot out to grab his arm. “No, wait,” she found herself saying, instantly regretting giving in. But the feeling didn’t linger too long before it was replaced by shock at how hard his bicep was under her small hand, hidden beneath his shirt. She tried not to look too startled as he turned back around and his eager amber eyes locked on hers, her skin immediately breaking out in goosebumps, covering her head to toe like tiny little warning bells.   
  
_Shit_.   
  
She found herself backtracking, internally yelling both  _What the hell are you doing?_ And _What’s the harm?_ like an angel and devil on her shoulders, respectively. “Why don’t you at least keep me company while I finish this drink? Which _thank you,_ by the way. For the martini and the non-roofied water.”   
  
He sat back down when she added a smile, his own dimples reflecting back at her. She much preferred it over the sad look he had sported, though the grin didn’t quite meet his eyes, and she was suddenly determined to make sure he didn’t regret buying her a drink tonight.   
  
“Okay. That I can do. And you’re welcome, times two.” He motioned to Fangs who quickly dropped the towel and glass he was drying, seemingly waiting for his cue a few steps away. “I’ll have another beer, please.”   
  
“Coming right up, sir.” Fangs’ smile was huge, like the cat who caught the canary.   
  
Veronica squinted her eyes at her bartender for the umpteeth time tonight, who quickly adjusted his face to a more neutral expression.   
  
Turning to her handsome companion, she stuck her manicured hand out. “Can we start over? I’m Veronica,” she said, purposefully leaving out her last name in case he had heard of her - not likely if he was from LA like Fangs had said, but she always had better conversations with strangers if they didn’t know who she was.   
  
The redhaired man met her shake with a strong grip, something she appreciated in the business world. But this particular handshake had something else underneath it, a feeling she couldn’t quite figure out - like when a word was on the tip of your tongue or a melody was lost in your head and it plagued you for the rest of the day. She instantly missed the contact as soon as their hands separated. She blinked rapidly, trying to get the image of his hands on her out of his head.  
  
“Archie. Andrews.”   
  
_Archie Andrews_. _Had a nice ring to it._  
  
“I hear you’re visiting from out of town, Archie Andrews. What brings you to our delightful city? Business or pleasure?”   
  
“Business.” He hunched his shoulders as if he regretted the answer. “I’m a musician.”   
  
She smiled, arching an eyebrow in interest. “And what, pray tell, do you play?”   
  
“A bit of everything,” he shrugged. “Actually, I’m a song writer. I write music for other people.”  
  
Fangs set down his beer in record time, and Archie paused to take a quick sip before turning back to give her his full attention.   
  
“Anything I would have heard before?”   
  
The blush started to come back into his cheeks as he reached a hand up to the back of his neck. “Maybe? I’ve written some stuff with Noah Gunderson, Cary Brothers, Iron and Wine...”   
  
She took a sip of her martini as he answered, trying to spare him her gaze, getting used to the flavor of the drink on her tongue, oddly growing on her.   
  
“Iron and Wine. I know them. I’ll have to check out the others though,” she said, her interest growing. “Look at you, working in the big leagues. You must be very talented.” She was delighted when the blush continued to darken on his cheeks at her flattery.  
  
“I haven’t done much yet, I’m just getting started,” he confessed. “I’m actually in town to get more of my work heard by producers on this coast. It’s better to be bicoastal with this kind of thing. Get my name around as many desks as possible.”  
  
“Smart move,” she agreed. “You must miss the west coast though. The east coast weather can be pretty brutal, and New York is probably a bit of a culture shock.”   
  
“Actually, I grew up a few hours away from here.” He smiled. “Riverdale, if you’ve heard of it.”   
  
The name stimulated a neuron somewhere deep in her brain, but she couldn’t tap further into the connection. “I _think_ I’ve heard of it.”  
  
“What about you? Where did you grow up?”   
  
“New York City, born and raised,” she responded, raising her drink up before taking another sip. The flavor really _was_ oddly growing on her.    
  
His eyebrows came together for a second before he asked, “How does someone stay grounded in a place like this? I’ve only been her for a few hours and it’s pretty overwhelming.” He shifted a bit in his chair before turning to face her more squarely.   
  
She couldn’t help but also angle her body towards him instead of the bar, something magnetic in the way he carried himself, or his voice or eager eyes, that called to her own body. Perhaps it was just that carnal attraction between two people, but there was something deeper, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on that was keeping more than just her eyes engaged on him, and she hated it a little - confused why a stranger was affecting her so.   
  
“It’s a balance,” she started, trying to find the right words to explain something she’d thought about many times. Her phone buzzed ironically in her purse next to her before she continued. “Remembering the world is much bigger than just me, or this room, or this street - which the city reminds you of daily, but not getting lost in it all. Making connections, routines, finding your space, and carving it out.”   
  
“Something you have to work at then,” he reflected, fingers playing with the corner of the label on his still full beer, adding with a chuckle, “I was hoping there was an immediate fix.”   
  
“Well, alcohol certainly helps,” she confirmed, downing the last of her drink, her phone once again buzzing in her purse, but persistently this time.   
  
She reached in to silence it, but caught the screen illuminated with 10 missed texts, 2 missed calls, and 5 new emails. Funny as she had only heard two buzzes all this time.  
  
“As does enjoying said alcohol with a handsome stranger for a few minutes,” she added, slipping off the chair and adjusting her dress. “Unfortunately, duty calls and I must be off.”   
  
He got up and retrieved her coat on the back of the chair before she could, hands brushing past one another as he flipped it around to help her get it on, a charge running up her spine at the contact.   
  
“Can I see you again?” He asked her bluntly.   
  
She inserted her arms into the coat and turned back around towards him, pausing before she answered. Pushing her hair back into place, dark curls unfolding from underneath the collar, she locked her eyes on him. Her body was screaming at her to say  _yes, yes, yes,_ despite knowing nothing about this man besides that he was gorgeous and seemingly kind, but she responded more responsibly despite the pull behind her navel.  
  
“If it’s meant to be, Archiekins. Thank you again for the drinks. And for saving my life.”   
  
She adjusted her purse straps onto the crook of her elbow as she buttoned up her coat, turning and leaving him there standing at the bar, watching her walk away. Giving into the pull, she couldn’t help but look back to him when she reached the door, flashing him a small smile.  
  
Later when she was home, she would picture him standing there, hands in his pockets with those disappointed eyes, but grinning back at her with a belly-ache inducing smile that made her a little weak in the knees. 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

  
She returned the missed call to Betty first as she attempted to wave down a cab, who answered on the second ring.   
  
“V! Where are you? I have news!” Her friend’s voice was eager.  
  
“I’m slipping into a cab in front of V.L. and heading home,” Veronica responded as she slid into the back of said cab, quickly giving her cross streets to the driver. “Why? What’s up?”   
  
“They loved the pitch! I didn’t tell anyone it was today in case it went south, but I did it, they loved it, I tentatively have 5 pages in the spring issue! I’m so excited, I could sing!” Betty’s voice was happier than it had been in months, usually an underlying tone of stress under every conversation about her work as a writer, but her energy felt like it was literally pouring out of the phone into Veronica’s ear. “I’m going to celebrate with Jug alone tonight since he’s flying to Seattle tomorrow for J.B., but do you have time tomorrow?”   
  
Veronica smiled at the enthusiasm, as she mentally rearranged meetings in her head for Betty. “Late lunch?”   
  
“Yes! Does Monmouth work? I’m dying for their sesame roll.”   
  
“Actually, that’s perfect. I’ll be at Pearl around the corner before noon to check in with management. I’ll send you a text when I’m almost done, plan for a little before one?”   
  
“I’ll be there!” Betty paused for a few seconds before continuing, “V, you’re okay, right? I know what today is. Do you need anything?”   
  
Veronica had to chuckle at the sudden turn of conversation, and shook her head a little, because _of course_ Betty remembered to ask, even amid her exciting news.  
  
“Yes, B. I’m fine. Really. Or _I will be_ once I get home and am assured it’s still standing in one piece.”   
  
Betty started, “You don’t think he would...”   
  
“ _No, no_ , not intentionally,” Veronica cut in. “But he’s a man, and they have no finesse with these things. I’ll send you a text when I’m settled and let you know.”   
  
“Okay, please do. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”   
  
“Love you too, B,” she said before ending the call.  
  
Calculating she had at least another fifteen minutes before the cab made it through traffic, she settled in to the remaining texts and voicemails, trying to clear up as many as possible before attempting to relax for the rest of the evening.   
  
She managed to sort through the most pressing matters, sending a message off to her business assistants who she was comfortable to let deal with the rest, just as her cab pulled up in front of her building. She tapped her phone against the charge panel and added in her tip, before the door opened from the outside.   
  
“Ms. Veronica, welcome home,” Smithers greeted as she stepped out into the chilly air, taking his offered hand. He’d added a wool scarf to his usual uniform today, his aged eyes still twinkling. He didn’t pick up as many shifts now-a-days but his smile was always warming and he’d reassured her countless times that when he was ready to retire, he’d let her know.   
  
“Thank you, Smithers.”   
  
“Staying in for dinner, dear? Can I call out for an order?” He asked as he got the next door for her, the heat of the lobby greeting her as warmly as his smile.   
  
“Yes, but no need. I’m just going to whip something up myself. Thank you.” She shifted her purse to the other arm and strutted across the lobby.   
  
“How about a Magnolia cupcake or two? I have a craving myself,” he called after her.   
  
She slowed, realizing that he was worried about her, and turned back to the kind man, smiling.  
  
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine. Do get one for yourself though. And get home safely tonight, Smithers.”   
  
He frowned slightly, not reassured, but responded, “Have a good night, Ms. Veronica.”  
  
She continued to the elevator, already waiting for her, and proceeded up to her penthouse to settle in for the night, taking a deep breath to prepare her for when the doors reopened. 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

There wasn’t much missing overall, but the sizes of the few large pieces of furniture he had moved in with, his huge entertainment center in the sitting room, his desk in the office, the pool table in the lounge, left large voids in their absence.   
  
Veronica had changed into her pajamas as soon as she walked in the door, a thin robe adorning her shoulders and large socks on her feet to counter the outside October chill that seemed to have slipped inside. Lounging on her couch with a large glass of wine in hand, she rested her feet up on the coffee table and tried to remember the day Reggie had moved in.   
  
It had been springtime, three years ago - the walls brighter and the air fresher, then. The movers had taken a chunk out of her doorway bringing the pool table in and he’d hired someone to fix it that night.   
  
There were a lot of memories trapped here, stuck into the bare spaces left on the rugs where his things had been. But she felt calm and settled in their absence. There was relief off her shoulders since they decided he should move out - the weight less and less every day - and now that his things were finally gone, she felt renewed. She was ready to be her own person again, alone, except for this bottle of wine. But it was sitting next to an envelope on the table, her name scratched across the front in Reggie’s hand writing, unopened.   
  
For a minute, she wondered how the evening could have been playing out right about now, had she made different decisions tonight, and perhaps a certain redheaded man would be keeping her attention instead of these ghosts.  
  
Shaking her head, she downed the rest of wine in her glass, and as she reached for the bottle, pushed the envelope to the floor. 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

  
“Hey, kid, how’s the big apple?”   
  
Fred had picked up after the first ring, an eagerness in his voice that brought a smile to Archie’s face.  
  
“Pretty big, Dad.”   
  
“Well, yeah, that’s the general idea,” Fred chuckled. “When’s the big meeting tomorrow?”   
  
“First thing. Then if it goes well, another after lunch,” Archie replied, leaning back against the headboard of his hotel bed, shirt untucked and shoes off with a beer on the nightstand. He had walked around the city a bit after the drinks at the bar, but didn’t want to wander too far from the hotel the first night. If things did indeed go well tomorrow, he’d have plenty of time to explore later.   
  
“Have you heard from Jughead?” Fred asked.   
  
“Yes, he’s actually on his way out of town in the morning. If I stick around, I’ll catch him later in the week when he’s back. He’s got a short trip over to Seattle to see J.B.“   
  
“That’s right. F.P. was saying she finally made the big move out there. Good, good. Well, I know they’re gonna love you tomorrow, son. You’ve got nothing to worry about if you’re nervous.”   
  
“I’m not nervous, Dad. I get a little antsy beforehand, but it’s a good energy. I’ve been doing this for a while now, I know how to handle the _no_ ’s when they come,” Archie reassured him.  
  
“I know, son. You’re in the big leagues now. I’m proud of you.”   
  
There was a twinge in his chest with his father’s words, something that had been happening now every time they spoke on the phone - a not so subtle reminder of what was going on beneath the surface. “How’s.... how are you feeling, Dad?”   
  
“I’m fine, just fine. Don’t you worry about me. Concentrate on tomorrow and don’t forget to call and tell me all about it.”   
  
Archie let his father change the subject without pushing. “I will, Dad. Hey, tell F.P. I said hello next time you see him. And give Vegas a head rub for me.”   
  
“Will do, kid. You rest up now. Love ya, talk tomorrow.”   
  
“Love you too, Dad. Bye.”   
  
The phone clicked in Archie’s ear as Fred ended the call. His teeth worried his bottom lip a bit, and he wondered if he should text his mom to find how his dad was really doing, but she was probably busy.  Easier to just ask him again himself tomorrow he figured, finishing the last swig of his beer before curling his arm up behind his head and reaching for the remote. The evening called for some good old fashion distraction in the form of some TV.   
  
And for a moment, he wondered what the girl from the bar was doing right then, that red lipped grin on her face as she stepped out the door flashing across his mind - and a warm feeling entered his chest as he stretched his legs out across the bed and changed the channel. 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 


	2. Lemon Drop, Take 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica keeps her lunch date. Archie gets good news. Kevin needs to shop. I somehow managed to keep our characters' hands to themselves.

 

 

There’s a chilly rain soaking the sidewalks in the morning when Archie makes his way to his meeting, dirtying up his nice shoes, but the hotel provided him an umbrella for the six block walk allowing his shirt and jacket to stay presentable. Rubbing elbows in the industry was not his favorite part of this career, but it was necessary for now. While he would much rather be at home in his studio in sweatpants with his guitar in his lap, slacks and a collared shirt in a high rise office on 17th and Broadway was instead how he found himself on Tuesday morning - at the extreme opposite end of his work spectrum.  
  
It was especially annoying when all this could conceivably be done over the phone or Skype as it were. But face to face meetings tended to be more successful, so he sucked it up and put the pants on.   
  
A chocolate croissant was heavy in his belly as he watched the facial expression of the executive sitting across from him, his head bobbing to the beat of the last thirty seconds of one of Archie’s demos playing over the speakers. Despite the demos being sent to UMG corporate office weeks ago, Archie knew only an intern had probably listened to them before his arrival here, and likely not more than a few seconds of each, before scanning over a list of his previous work and putting him on the “good” pile for someone else to do something with. This executive didn’t have time to screen demos, and this is why face to face meetings were a necessary evil for now, with or without dry socks.   
  
“I’m liking what I hear and I remember some of your previous work. I’m going to connect you with some specific producers for artists I think you’d jive well with and see if we can create some magic here. What do you think?”   
  
“That sounds great,” Archie sighed in relief that he didn’t have to pitch at all. The more he wrote and sold, the less and less he had to speak up to promote his work, and he was starting to like how success felt. He hoped days of meetings like this were coming to end, and soon just his name would be enough.   
  
“Great, I actually have a meeting with Angelo Petraglia Thursday if you’ll still be in town. Between you and me, he’s looking to take some more time off and trying to find a fresh face in the business for some of his artists, if you get my drift. I think you two would mesh well together.”   
  
Archie grinned, because _of course_ he knew that name and his fingers were suddenly itching to get to his phone to google who Angelo had been working with more recently. “That sounds even better. I can hang around town, sure.”  
  
“Perfect. Please confirm with Noelle all your contact info and she’ll be in touch shortly about the when’s and where’s.” He stood, reaching across the desk to shake Archie’s hand. “I’ll see you, Thursday, Archie.”   
  
“Thank you, see you then.” Archie tried not to smile too hard as he turned and left the office, feeling lighter and lighter with each step towards the secretary’s desk. _One less thing to worry about for now._    
  
Noelle confirmed his contact info and threw in a congratulations and a lunch recommendation. Despite the croissant an hour ago, Archie was suddenly famished and eager to explore a city it seemed he’d be spending a bit more time in. 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

Stress woke Veronica in the morning, but it was the dull headache that kept her awake since five a.m.. The numbers on the screen in front of her now were still, and for that she was grateful, as there may have been a point last night that her vision had started to spin. Had this meeting been two hours earlier in the day, she might have had a problem.   
  
_You’re slipping, Lodge._  
  
There were few instances in her short life when she’d drank more than she should have, some celebratory and some not so much: the opening night of her first restaurant, the death of her Abuelita, the first night of college, and the last. Each of those occasions had all been in the company of others, though. She hadn’t gotten  _completely_ sloshed last night alone in her apartment with her slippers and the ghosts. She had left almost a full glass of wine in the bottle,  _thank you very much_ , but she had still over done it and a slight pressure behind her eyes was a reminder of how her morning had been going.   
  
Veronica cleared her throat before speaking. “The budget is on point, but I don’t have any issues with your request for an increase for produce.” She pushed her glasses up her nose as she studied the restaurant’s documents on the computer in front of her. Peering up at the man seated across from her, she asked, “Are you satisfied with the quality of this distributor or do we need to revisit the last one?”   
  
“Chef and I are both satisfied. We’ve had nothing but rave reviews since the switch. I will reassess a few weeks into the next season change.”   
  
“I agree. Anything else that needs my attention on the floor?”   
  
“No, Boss.”   
  
“Well, in that case, let me check in with the bar manager and we’ll call this review a success, Mr. Morgan.”   
  
The manager of Pearl stood up as Veronica stepped out from behind his desk, ever the gentleman in offering her his chair, and escorted her out of his small office with a smile on his face, relieved this meeting went well for him. Veronica knew she could be a hard ass, most specifically with Pearl, her first restaurant, her baby that she held to a higher standard among the others, but it reflected back at her in the success of her establishments.   
  
“Let’s pencil in the next review for four weeks from now. Andrea will be in touch with a time. If anything comes up beforehand, don’t hesitate to let me know. You have my direct line.”   
  
“Of course, Ms. Lodge.”   
  
She left him in the hall as she put her glasses back in their case and into her purse. The nagging pain in her chest was bugging her again, had been most of the week so far, not made better by the overindulging last night, but at least it distracted her from her headache. She quickly popped another two Tums from her purse as she scrolled through her phone, sending a quick text off to Betty to let her know her meeting was wrapping up as she swallowed down the chalky meds.  
  
She lifted her gaze as she entered the bright main room and caught sight of Sweet Pea, the bar manager. She only wanted a quick word, always checking in with each member of her management team and never just the floor manager, something she learned very early in the game.  
  
The tall man was drying some glasses at the end of the bar, watching his two bartenders tend to the lunch crowd. She followed his gaze and took in the sight of filled seats, her heart swelling with pride as S.P. caught her eye and smiled with his eyebrows raised, nodding towards the lunch crowd. Pearl was her very first successful adventure, made her the _Veronica Lodge_ she was today - every drop of blood, sweat, and tears she put in worth it when she finally earned the respect she deserved at such a young age in this business. People started taking her seriously, putting her on the short list, and giving her their attention once she debuted the new American cuisine. And it took her to today, where she owned over a dozen different establishments, restaurants, bars, and the like in the city, and was soon to be taking on residential projects.   
  
_With or without one Reggie Mantle..._  
  
His cologne had taken up permanent residence under her nose and she was hit with the phantom scent when she thought of him, even when they hadn’t seen each other in days. But she didn’t want to think about him and their joint financial endeavors right now, not today. Not for a _few_ days if she could help it, but Andrea had already been pressing into her about their specific joint meetings and contracts, and she for sure knew Veronica was blatantly ignoring them.  
  
She tried to usher Reggie out of her mind as she made her way along the back wall of the restaurant, eager to get the rest of this review done and get around the corner to Betty, when she noticed a flash of red hair.   
  
Veronica almost stumbled as she re-inspected the color, on the head of a patron at a table by the window. It startled her when he turned his head slightly and she caught the side profile of her previous night’s savior and  _What the hell_ ’s replaced Reggie’s face in her head.  
  
All at once, she remembered the tingling feeling of Archie’s hand in hers, something brewing up in her belly. Of all the 8.5 million people in this city, he somehow ended up in the same room as her _twice_ in as many days, and somehow made her head feel stupid and heart hammer like a triple shot of espresso only could.  
  
She studied the state of his table quickly, clutching her phone in her hand as she struggled to overcome the feelings of acid reflux and something along the lines of physical attraction. His back was to her, facing the window, the remnants of his solo lunch in front of him, and  _Sane_ Veronica fought the urge of  _Impulse_ Veronica to rush over.  
  
When she reached the side of the bar, S.P.’s voice shook her out of her internal debate. “Hey there, Boss. What can I do for you?” He placed the glass and towel in his hands down on the counter and leaned forward over the bar towards her, his height always striking despite her three inch Ralph & Russo pumps, pulling her back to the task at hand.   
  
She recovered quickly and rested her free hand on the bar edge, blood red nails meeting mahogany as she spoke, coolly. “Just checking in. How is everything up here?”  
  
“Great. The fall drink menu has been a big hit. We’re getting a lot of lunch meetings in here now and customers are more inclined to have a drink on the clock when it’s a bit more festive.”   
  
She glanced back towards the front window as he spoke, watching the white shirt stretch across Archie’s toned back, feeling the flutters in her belly turn over every time she caught sight of the side of his face as he watched the people passing by on the sidewalk. And wondering the whole time what the hell was wrong with her that a complete stranger was affecting her like this.   
  
_No, no, no. Absolutely not._  
  
“Boss?”   
  
She shook her head again, and turned back to her bar manager, somewhat dazed. “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted. That’s wonderful, S.P., anything need my attention?”  
  
“We may need to add an additional bartender to the Thursday and Friday lunch shifts. My guys are feeling a bit crunched, and the waitstaff has made some comments about drinks being slow. I’ll send you some sales data for justification.”   
  
She nodded as she listened, and peered back towards the window, watching as Archie brought his phone to his ear. “That would be great. Please be sure to copy the email to Andrea.”   
  
“Sure. That’s the only thing on the list as of now. Anything I can do for you, Boss?”   
  
She debated for half a second, not liking that her normal confident reserve was taking an odd dent due to a captivating handsome man, but the Devil was winning this argument. At least he was partially, because she for sure was not running over to Archie’s table to drape herself across it and offer her body up for his dessert.   
  
“One small thing. Please send a lemon drop martini to that table by the window, to the redheaded gentleman, on the house. And don’t give away my name. Discretion, please.” She felt a tiny bit of regret as she said it, letting him alone, like she was standing on a platform watching her train pull out of the station without her. But she didn’t have time for this, whatever  _this_ was.   
  
“You got it, Boss.” Sweet Pea hid a smile as he nodded down at her, immediately turning around to start working on the drink himself. She didn’t bother wondering what was going through his head at her strange request.   
  
Her phone chirped with an incoming text and she glanced down to read that Betty was just five minutes away.   
  
“If you need anything else, S.P., please let me know. I’ll see you.”   
  
She hurried away from him, allowing her face to flush for just a second with juvenile embarrassment at her action before she lifted her chin and strutted across the floor. She resisted the urge to peak back at Archie as she pushed through the front door, the hostess wishing her a good afternoon as she did. She _also_ resisted the urge to act like a teenager and walk in front of the window, which he would inevitably see her through.  
  
Instead, she turned right - away from the window and away from the intriguing man - towards Betty and her celebratory lunch, the nagging feeling in her chest lifting a little with the distance and the Tums kicking in. 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

“Great, Dad. It’s looking like a couple of days at least, I’ll keep you in the loop.”   
  
“Sounds wonderful, son. Talk to you soon.”   
  
“Bye, Dad.” Archie ended the call with a smile on his face. The day had been working out perfectly, first with the meeting and then the call from L.A. about an old project he had been working on finally in production for the artist. He was pleased with himself and his work and even more glad he could stick around to see Jughead when he returned from his quick cross country trip.  
  
Not even the chilly air and wind, and still slightly damp socks, could put a damper on today.   
  
“This is on the house, sir. Anything else I can get you?”   
  
Archie stared at the drink the waiter sat in front of him, delayed in processing it, as he slipped his phone back into his pocket and leaned back into his chair. The secretary had said that Pearl had a great lunch and great service, but free drinks in the city seemed especially unusual. “On the house? But I didn’t order this.”   
  
“A young woman sent it over, sir.”   
  
His brow furrowed in confusion a moment before the curled lemon peel on the rim tickled a spot in his brain and suddenly his hopes were soaring as he turned to search the room for striking raven hair. “Where is she?”   
  
“I’m sorry, sir. I believe she left.”   
  
He scanned the crowd despite the waiter’s disappointing words, the hope sinking back in his chest as he failed to find the captivating face burned into the back of his eyelids. It seemed much too coincidental for it to be someone else, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about her a dozen times already today, the beautiful and mysterious Veronica. For a brief moment he had even considered going back to the bar from the night before to ask that funny bartender if he knew how to reach her, but didn’t want to look like a weirdo.  
  
Their short conversation had left him wanting more, but it was the way she carried herself and her striking features that made him ache a bit to see her again. There was something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but  _oh, did he want to_.   
  
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the nose, or whatever that saying is,” Archie said, nodding to the waiter as he lifted the drink up in his direction. “Thanks, I guess.”   
  
He took a sip in consolation as the waiter left and decided it was a pretty decent drink even without the gorgeous company. 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

Veronica wrapped her arms tightly around her squealing blonde best friend, joining her in making the cringy noise and not caring how much of a scene they were making in the middle of the restaurant.   
  
“I’m so, so, so proud of you, B. You so deserve this,” Veronica said into her hair before pulling back and kissing her cheek.  
  
Betty’s hair was down and wavy, her eyes bright and wide as they sat down, and she looked exactly like Veronica had thought she sounded on the phone yesterday. _Elated_.   
  
“I’m so relieved and terrified at the same time! It’s not a guarantee to print until the final copy is approved and I have to go through a bunch of reviews before hand, but it’s essentially all mine to do with it what I please.”   
  
Veronica adjusted the napkin in her lap as she watched Betty go on, hands gesturing and face pink with excitement. The engagement ring on her finger glistened in the light and Veronica realized with amusement that the only other time she’d seen Betty like this was when she announced Jughead proposed.   
  
“Before I forget, I got you something to congratulate you,” Veronica said, pulling a small pink box out of her purse.  
  
“No, absolutely not.” Betty shook her head as Veronica held out the white ribbon tied box in front of her expectantly.  
  
“Oh shut up and take it. It’s just a little celebratory bobble.”  
  
Betty narrowed her brows in protest, but gave Veronica a small smile as she finally gave in and took it from her. Inside was a thin gold bangle with a small adorning knot, understated and lovely. She had called Tiffany’s herself to have it put on hold for her secretary to pick up, knowing exactly what Betty would like from the last time they had window shopped.  
  
“V, it’s so pretty,” she said, slipping it onto her wrist. “Thank you, but you really shouldn’t have.”  
  
Veronica batted her hand up in dismissal. “Nonsense, you deserve something shiny. Now, what do you think you’re going to write about?”   
  
“I have a couple ideas. They want it somewhat in the genre of self help, self discovery, the like.”   
  
“Maybe something on meditation? You’re into that.”  
  
“Maybe. I might get a bit personal to start it off and then get some quotes from mind and body enthusiasts, like yoga instructors or meditation specialists. But part of me feels like that’s a bit too expected?” Betty titled her head. “Like maybe I should talk to someone who’s done something more worldly - gone to the pyramids or eaten bugs in rural Central America, I don’t know. Something more interesting?”   
  
“You should talk to Kevin,” Veronica suggested. “He was recently dating some guy who travels the world trying to find cliffs to jump off.”  
  
“Oh my god, exactly like that! See? What would I do without you?” Betty grinned.  
  
After the waiter came and went with their orders, Veronica responded, “For starters, you’d never plan your wedding. But then again, you won’t let me actually start making any of the plans, so there you go.”   
  
Betty shook her head, still smiling. “V, I swear I’ll let you go wild all over the plans just as soon as we’re ready to bite the bullet, but there’s just too much going on right now. But the second we get some breathing room....”   
  
“I know, I know.” Veronica rolled her eyes playfully. “I get to smother you in satin and drown you in Pinterest boards, just not yet. But I’m making it known that we’ve waited too long for this spring, summer, and now _fall_ of next year, so unless you’re suddenly a winter bride, we’re talking the year after.” She pointed her finger at Betty. “Not to mention it takes at least 8 months to get a dress in, and I won’t have my B wearing something off the rack. Unless we rush order...which we could do if you really want fall next year, but your color palate is more spring...and there is no way you’ll find a great venue for _this_ spring...”   
  
“Veronica, stop. Breathe.” Betty kept smiling at the brunette knowingly. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not worrying.”   
  
Veronica sighed, reorganizing the running To-Do list in her head, again rolling her eyes in a dramatic teasing fashion. “Oh fine, but know you’re denying me the greatest pleasure in my life of planning the event of the century.”   
  
“Speaking of events,” Betty started, changing the subject. “What time are you headed to Josie’s gig tomorrow?”   
  
“I should be there on time. It’s at nine, right?”   
  
“Yes. Jughead is depressed he can’t make it since he’ll be on the red-eye. Though he did mention he has an old friend in town that he might send over and I should look out for him. Maybe you can help me entertain him,” Betty said the last bit casually but like she really wanted to wiggle her eyebrows at her friend suggestively.   
  
Veronica snorted as she took a drink of her club soda the waiter set down in front of her. “I’m _done_ with men for a while, sorry.”   
  
“V, it’s been _weeks_. I know Reggie only just moved out, but you’ve been separated for a while now. Don’t you think you deserve to have a little _fun_?”   
  
“I don’t think there’s a timeline on these kinds of things,” Veronica replied, sipping again, enjoying the coolness hitting her aching stomach. “Every time I get asked out, I just see his face and I can’t say yes. Like I’m spoken for. I’m not, obviously, _I know I’m not_ , but it just all feels really weird thinking about someone else like that, when he’s been  _it_ for me for a long time.”  
  
Betty reached across the table to grab her hand. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. I shouldn’t push you.”   
  
“No, I’m sorry for getting all _angsty_ about it. We’re celebrating right now, so let’s talk about happy things.” Veronica pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Like is this man attractive? How drunk do you think Kevin will get tomorrow night? Is Cheryl going to let Toni into a loud club for fear of causing their unborn child to grow an extra limb?”   
  
Betty laughed at Veronica’s last question, leaving the rhetorical question unanswered. “I actually asked Jughead what his friend was like, and all he said was  _He’s a guy I grew up with. He’s cool_ like that was a satisfactory answer.” She added with an eye roll, “Men.”   
  
“Men, indeed.”

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

“I’m in need of retail therapy, Veronica,” Kevin bemoaned with a enough of a well practiced flair that she could picture his face saying the words.  
  
She hurried across the street when the light changed, heels clacking on the pavement, a strong grip on the phone on her ear since the last time someone shouldered her on the sidewalk it had gone flying.   
  
“Of course, I’m always up for a little indulgent spree, but might I suggest we focus this energy on the coming petite one. Toni’s baby shower is in a week and I have nothing for it yet.” She pulled her coat in tighter around her and untucked her hair from behind her ear to keep it warm in the wind as she waited at the next intersection.  
  
“Oh, if you insist, but Cheryl will probably exchange everything anyway, why are we not just giving her cash and making it easier for her?”  
  
“Because Toni needs to open presents,” Veronica replied. “Maybe we should get Toni something in addition to the baby, that way Cheryl can’t return it. Lord knows she deserves it.”  
  
 She frowned when she saw flashing lights coming down the street and the ambulance wail caused the cars to slow and pull off, rendering her stuck on the corner. She wanted to get her feet in warm slippers and her hands around a hot cup of tea, pronto. She instantly regretted not getting a taxi.  
  
“Clever, V. Where are you? I hear sirens echoing in my ear like we’re near one another.”  
  
She looked up at the sign post while she tapped her foot in annoyance. “84th and Park.”  
  
"Don’t move! I’m 2 blocks away!” She heard him start breathing harder into the phone, his voice jostling as he obviously jogged in her direction.  
  
“Kevin, I’m cold. I’m heading home.” She whined, watching the ambulance finally pass and the cars start moving, but she stayed put on the corner despite her words.  
  
“Oh, knock it off. It’s October, not the arctic. And I miss your face. Which corner are you on?”  
  
She squinted at the buildings and pulled up her mental map before responding, “Southeast?”  
  
“I see the top of your cute little head.”  
  
She looked around trying to figure out which direction he was coming from. “I hope the top of my head is not the first thing people notice.”  
  
“Please, that face with that coat and bag? You’re a vision.”  
  
She finally caught sight of him hurrying up Park Avenue and she put away her phone as he approached.  
  
He hugged her, harder and longer than normal and when she pulled back, she squinted at him accusingly.  
  
“What?” He asked.  
  
“What was that for?”  
  
Her eyes darted back and forth across his face, looking to see if there was any hint that hug was more than just a normal greeting like she suspected.  
  
“I….you….looked cold,” he stumbled over the words as he shrugged his shoulders.  
  
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest, tucking her hands into her elbows to keep warm. “What happened to it being October? You all need to stop! I’m fine! I’m a _grown ass woman_ , and I know how to be alone.”  
  
He took her hand and tucked it into his elbow instead, turning her back in the direction of her apartment and guiding her across the street.  
  
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m not checking in every chance I get. How often do you run into your best friend on the street on the upper east side?”  
  
She sighed as they continued up the block. “You mean when you play Marco-polo or just actually run into them? I’m finding this city is much smaller than it seems.”  
  
“Whenever. Let me at least walk you to the next block, I’ve got a date around the corner anyway.”  
  
“Anyone I know?”  
  
“Let’s not spoil it, yet. It’s new and I’m feeling superstitious. I’ll probably call you afterwards anyhow, unless it’s a  _really_ good date.”  
  
“I think I have a date with my bathtub, so I’ll probably be up to answer,” she confirmed.  
  
He stopped once they crossed over Madison Ave, grabbing her face and leaving a smacking kiss on her forehead.  
  
“Seriously, I’m  _fine_!” She pouted up at him, but watched as his attention was distracted to something behind her as he dropped his hands.  
  
“Holy….” He started, and as she started to turn in curiosity, he grasped her roughly by the shoulders and turned her back towards him. “Don’t look!”  
  
She frowned and turned around despite his warning.  
  
They were standing outside Grazie, an Italian cafe, the inside of which glowed out into the dark street - tables and patrons lining the window like a moving art exhibit.  
  
“What am I not supposed to be…..seeing?” She trailed off as her brain caught up to her eyes and she saw a familiar mop of dark hair leaning over a table, his jacket on the seat behind him and his sleeves rolled up. Her vision locked on his forearms on the table, both of them, his hands clutching someone else’s hands, smaller hands in fact, linked all together in the center of the table with a bread basket pushed to the side.  
  
She didn’t feel anything, or maybe she did but was just not processing whatever it was, raw and drained. Refusing to look any more, she turned back to Kevin, who was still wide eyed, his gaze darting back and forth between her and the window, waiting for the silence to break.  
  
So she did it. “See what I mean? This city is too fucking small."  


 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long, I bit off more than I can chew at the moment, but once this year is over, I'll have much more time to churn out updates more frequently. Stick with me. Please, please let me know what you think. This one-shot smut writer is feeling uneasy about this multichapter endeavor.


	3. And then some

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josie sings. Veronica needs a distraction. Archie gets some courage.
> 
> Rating change here kids.

The weather was surprisingly forgiving the next evening when Smithers hailed a cab for her, save for the inevitable fall wind that seemed to lurk around every city block, throwing tourists’ hair in all directions if caught unaware. Veronica checked her own hair in the reflection of her compact mirror after giving the address of Josie’s gig to the driver, smoothing out her fly aways and double checking her lip color. While most people used the front camera on their phone, she found these little mirrors a bit more refined, remembering staring up at her Abuelita who held the rounded double mirrors in her hand. The memory was precious to her.

 

Her schedule kept her running nonstop today, and this was the first time she was able to pause to take a deep calming breath since her morning espresso. Her assistants had kept the small snacks coming and her water bottle full on her desk all day for in-between meetings, _thank god._

 

Eyeing a small chip in her manicure, she sent a message off to Andrea to get her in for a nail appointment tomorrow, and then spent the rest of the twenty minute ride staring out the window, her phone on silent, mind wandering. It wasn’t right of her to have any sort of ill feelings about what Kevin and her saw last night, because she was fully aware of what Reggie was doing and who it probably was sitting across from him. But it did make her feel lonely, a little bit of that emotional ache in her chest that made you want to reach out and hold somebody’s hand, and she felt worse for fibbing to Kevin about it. Human beings had a basic need for physical touch, ingrained in their DNA to keep their species alive, and it had been too long since she’d had much of that at all, save for her friends hugging the breath out of her every time they ran into her.

 

Only Betty really knew how the last year had been and what had _really_ been going on at home, or more specifically what _hadn’t_ been going on at home. But finally seeing him out in public like that kind of shook her, like the world was saying everything was ready to work out. The facade was finally done for good. She still hadn’t opened the envelope he left her, knowing what was inside, but not wanting to go there quite yet. Though with the fiscal year closing in, she’d have to get it over with sooner rather than later. And when the cab stopped outside the Rockwood Music Hall, she decided she was going to enjoy herself tonight and not think about it until tomorrow.

 

After wandering past the bouncer and checking her coat, she made her way through the hall to the first stage and spotted her friends off to the side of the room near one of the few tables. Toni was occupying one of the wooden chairs while Kevin held up the wall and Betty stood between them telling some story animatedly with her free hand. Veronica must have just missed the previous performer, because the stage was dark and techs dressed in black were busy moving equipment.

 

Kevin spotted her first, waving a hand over at her from across the room, so she signaled she was heading to the bar. It wasn’t crowded, but this place had three separate performance spaces and in between shows people wandered to the other stages, so she’s hopeful for Josie they would wander back in when it was her turn.

 

There’s a stench of cigarettes and the floor was a bit sticky, so she felt like ordering a beer for the first time in a long time given the ambiance, very glad she changed into a pair of dark wash jeans before leaving work. A bartender spotted her quickly and delivered her requested bottle in similar fashion, earning him a wink and nice tip before she headed to her friends.

 

“V, please tell Toni she doesn’t have to leave early simply because her wife doesn’t trust her doctors,” Kevin said dramatically while once again wrapping her up in one of his very best hugs, his spicy cologne so comforting. She had to pay special attention not to spill her beer while he did so, and a small hand came to her aid by grabbing it out of her hand before he could jostle her up more.

 

He let her go, and she was free to greet Toni with a kiss on the cheek, stopping her from getting up while collecting her saved beer, before Betty wrapped her up in her arms, too.

 

“Don’t listen to him, Toni. And don’t listen to Cheryl,” Veronica added her support to their very pregnant friend. “It’s _your_ body. You do whatever you want with it.”

 

“Thanks Veronica, but I’ve used that argument before. Cheryl always fights back with the _her egg_ thing,” Toni laughs. “I’ve got a month left, I’m done fighting with her about it all. I’ve got minimal energy to even breathe. I need to save up as much as I can.”

 

“We support whatever you need. I’m glad you both made it out tonight,” Betty adds when Veronica pulled away from her, but kept her arm around her shoulders. “And I love that top, V,” she adds, referring to Veronica’s delicate black button down blouse.

 

“I owed it to Josie since I missed the last few and inevitably will miss the next ones for the foreseeable future,” Toni replied, rubbing her hand over her belly.

 

The house lights dimmed as the lights on the stage come up and people stopped their conversations. The MC announced Josie’s name and suddenly the crowd seemed infinitely more dense as they watched their gorgeous friend make her way on stage with her band to the cheers, dressed in tight black jeans and a shimmery top. Her red tipped natural curls bounced freely while she got into the beat of her first song. Some patrons already had their hands in the air, and the energy was palpable.

 

Veronica sang along with the opening verse, joining many other voices in the crowd doing the same, as she leaned her head on Betty’s shoulder, swaying back and forth and just basking in Josie’s moment. She forgot her troubles, forgot Reggie and his contracts, and let herself get lost in the music.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

The place was packed when Archie arrived, barely any room to shuffle past people, and the air was stifling compared to the temperature outside. Jughead said his fiancé would be on the lookout for him, but with the crowd and the dim lighting, there was zero chance of him finding the “cute leggy blonde” amongst them as he was instructed. Her phone number was buried somewhere in his messages from Jug, but he was too distracted by the stage and the edgy sound coming from it to stop to look for it.

 

The woman on stage, Jughead’s friend Josie he assumed, was quite the performer. Her voice had an earthy, raw quality, and her range was impressive. Lyrics and chords started shuffling through his brain as they often do when he hears such great talent, and whoever was writing for her did a great job of showcasing her abilities. It didn’t hurt that she also knew how to play to a crowd, performing instead of just singing, and he found himself getting into her next few songs, leaning on some free space against a wall to relax.

 

His mind wandered a bit during a guitar solo a few songs in, remembering his phone call to his mother this afternoon - getting through the pleasantries and updates about his week before he asked about his father. She wasn’t too forthcoming with information about Fred, just saying he was feeling fine, and _Just ask him yourself if you don’t believe me_. But his mother had a way of underplaying things if his father specifically asked her to, and Archie was hoping he could get her to break, to no avail.

 

He was trying not to be the overly worried son and call no more than a few times a week, but it was difficult, especially when he had these stretches of hours when his mind was free to wander without his instruments and recording equipment to keep it busy. He was desperately in need of another distraction.

 

Just as a memory of sharp eyes and cafe au lait skin flashed in his mind, someone he’d like to bury his troubles with, he had a sense of deja vu as a short raven haired woman passed by a few feet in front of him. He was flabbergasted and immediately nudging his way past other patrons in the direction she was headed, not believing it could be possibly be her. But so hoping it was.

 

 _Veronica_.

 

He managed to get close enough to tap her shoulder before she made it too far in the direction of the bar, and he knew, he just _knew_ the second his fingers brushed against the material of her shirt that it was her.

 

She turned, and he felt his heart jump into his throat as she stared at him, probably a perfect mirror of his own disbelieving face at this once-again chance encounter. Her skin was so smooth and the curve of her upper lip had him nibbling the inside of his own. Her deep eyes suddenly darted around him before either of them spoke, searching across the room for something before she reached for his hand and pulled him quickly out of the main room and into the hallway leading to the restrooms.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

As Josie started into the second half of her set, Veronica had excused herself from her friends to find her way back to the bar for another beer. The crowd was amazingly dense now half way through, and she felt such pride as she heard some of them singing along with her talented friend. She was thinking about one of the first gigs Josie played in the city a few years ago and how much had changed in that time - relationships, rings, a baby on the way - when someone’s hand touched her shoulder and she turned to brush them off.

 

A million thoughts ran through her mind like the schedule board at Grand Central when she turned around and saw him. _Archie Andrews._ First it’s disbelief, then _of course_ , then an urge to _hide him_ \- not let her friends see, not break this _secret_. The devil was in her ear telling her to jump his bones as her lips tingled, reaching for his hand and pulling him away from the possibility of prying eyes before she could question what she was doing.

 

When she rounded the corner, she kept going down the hall towards one of the other stages, well out of the way in case Toni’s small bladder got her up and waddling towards them. She didn’t know who possessed her or which of them directed the next few insane seconds, but they must have been communicating silently on the short journey, because they were completely in sync when she turned the corner - him pushing her up against the wall with his pelvis as if it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand diving into her hair and the other at her tiny waist as her hands fisted in his shirt over his abdomen, like he could disappear if she let him go. Their mouths were a breath apart, stuck in that delicious moment when just a tip of a neck would close the gap between them.

 

“Hi,” he said as their eyes searched each other’s faces.

 

Being this close to him made this strange magnetic attraction infinitely worse, pulling and pulling behind her navel as his fingers dipped under the hem of her shirt to lightly caress her skin.

 

She let the air still between them for a few more moments before she had no choice but to dive in - zero to sixty in three seconds - losing her breath while her insides were vibrating with a panicked frenzy. The first kiss was slow but oh so _deep_ , and she was purposefully drowning in his arms when his tongue made it’s way past her lips.

 

She forgot about Reggie, her apartment, her contracts, her life, because all there was was _Archie’s_ rough hands under her shirt flat across her back. And his gorgeous hair in the spaces between her fingers. And his tongue caressing the contours of hers as if he’s done it before and had all the time in the world. This was insane - completely mental - making out with a stranger like a horny teenager, but it felt like their souls had met in a past life and it was completely natural. The surging in her belly was something she hadn’t felt in a very, _very_ long time, and she wanted to climb it, climb _him_ if they weren’t in public. But as they were, she was slowing down the tempo of where this was headed until their deep kisses turned to small chaste ones, and she was finally resting her head back against the wall, staring up at her redheaded stranger.

 

“Hi,” she finally replied, twisting the hairs at his nape around her fingers while his hands retreated back to her hips, the steady pressure of them grounding.

 

“I think the universe is trying to tell us something.” His fingers kept dipping to touch skin again, and the little electric shocks they caused were starting to short circuit her brain.

 

“The universe, huh? And what makes you think we’re significant enough for the universe to intervene here?” She responded back with a teasing smile, still unsure where this was going, or how far she’d let it. But this distraction was so, _so_ good while she was letting her guard down.

 

“We must be some pretty interesting people, Ronnie.”

 

Her eyebrow shot up at the nickname and how bold he was to start using it, and she wanted to say something clever in response - some poem or lyrics trying to find their way through her brain - but her phone buzzed in her pocket. She suddenly remembered she was here with three friends and a fourth on stage tonight around the corner - any of which could come looking for her - and she was not quite ready to start answering questions about a stranger and his tongue in her mouth.

 

A stranger who she kept running into, and kept running through her dreams at night like the best kind of ghost. Much better than the ones at home.

 

Her eyes went towards the floor as she started to explain, “Listen, my friends are here and...”

 

“Let me walk you home,” he interrupted quickly, leaning down to kiss her cheek, and she thought she might faint from the sweetness of it. “Or share a cab, or however it is you get around this city.” He dropped his forehead to hers, and she had to bite her bottom lip at the way he was looking at her. “I’m not ready to say goodnight.”

 

She stared back up at him while he was talking, asking her to spend more time with him, almost pleading with his words and eyes, like he thought she was going to brush him off. But he didn't know what she was going to say - that _she_ wasn’t ready to say goodbye either.

 

“Where are you staying?” She asked before soothing her bottom lip with her tongue, the fire in her eyes a give away that she was being more bold in her question than he was at pleading with her. She wasn’t going to fight it this time - _third time's the charm or something_ \- because it felt too damn delicious now, and the alcohol in her blood was minimally to blame.

 

“The Casablanca.”

 

It was much closer than her building, by more than 40 blocks, and a short internal debate about safety, feminism, and physical attraction preceded her fishing her phone out of her pocket. She decided the easiest way to do this was a group text to the three of her friends, with one quick excuse. If she went back to say her goodbyes, she would never get out alive.

 

She wanted to text her driver, but despite the reckless actions she seemed to be producing now one after the other, she level headedly decided that would open too many doors to questions about what she did or who she was, and she wanted to keep this as simple as possible -  which was precisely why she usually took taxis to public events like this and didn’t use her last name in casual conversation.

 

Her _I’m not feeling well, heading out, sorry!_ text must have been a hit, because her phone started buzzing in quick short bursts over and over again in her pocket as they quickly found their coats at the check and then headed out into the cool air.

 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

He was standing next to an actual angel while she was signaling for a cab, a cab that would take them back to his room, and his mouth was going dry thinking about what could potentially come next. He kept his hands in his pockets to avoid doing something stupid or overstepping, suddenly disconnected from whatever confidence possessed him back there in the music hall - that guy pushing this ethereal stranger up against the wall. A stranger who responded so eagerly, he wasn’t quite sure if he was actually the one driving this scene or if she was conducting it all on her, or if somehow they had done this before, him under her spell.

 

He resisted pinching himself in the cab to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, and after giving their destination to the driver, they sat in silence. He didn’t want to ask her about herself because that would mean she’d start asking _him_ questions, and he didn’t think he could coherently string more words together right now. He wanted to stop thinking entirely.

 

Their cold fingers intertwined on the seat between them despite their silence, and he couldn’t help but bring her hand up to his lips, placing an intimate kiss in her palm, his mouth lingering for a moment before bringing it back down between them. Her pink tongue darted out to her stained lips when he did it, and he pledged to do whatever it took to make her look at him like that again tonight, over and over.

 

It was all he was thinking about as the car turned north, her licking her lips. She must have done it at their first meeting in the bar, because she did it every night in his dreams.

 

After what seemed like forever and an instant later, the driver was stopping outside his hotel, and Archie was swiping his credit card and mumbling his thanks as they got out onto the cold sidewalk. Like they forgot what they’re doing, they stood there a few feet apart facing each other outside the building as the cab drove away, people walking around them oblivious to the hurricane brewing in the air between them.

 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in for a drink?” She broke the silence first, arching that eyebrow of hers that hundreds of men had probably laid down across puddles for. He wanted to be that guy tonight - her mat, her blanket, too. Hell, he’d be her umbrella if she’d let him.

 

He gestured for her to lead the way, opening the door for her and offering a guiding hand at the small of her back. He kept it there as they entered the small, warm lobby and waited in front of the elevator. A mix of nerves and excitement had him chewing at the inside of his lip again. His toe was wiggling inside his shoe while he watched the numbers descend before the lift finally arrived to the ground floor.

 

When the doors opened and they entered, she shifted close enough to him that another whiff of her perfume reached his nose and his fingers itched to reach out and hit the emergency stop button, so he could take her up against the wall. But as he was a gentleman, instead he hit the button for his floor and resigned to wait for her explicit stated permission before this went any further.

 

She was quiet for the entire short ride to the seventh floor, so he was too. Here the oxygen must have been getting thinner because he started to take deeper and deeper breaths as he led her towards his suite at the corner of the building. His hand was still at the small of her back until he was digging for the door card from his wallet and praying that housekeeping picked up his underwear he left on the floor this morning.

 

Electricity permeated through the air as they entered, and like she’d been here before, Veronica cut through it and headed straight to the minibar like a missile to her target.

 

Archie stayed at the periphery of the room after looking around to make sure nothing embarrassing was laying out, leaning his shoulder back against the wall, and then watching as she looked over the selection. It was only a moment before she was holding up tiny bottles in question to him.

 

“Gin or vodka?”

 

“Whichever you don’t want,” he replied, happy that the words came out coherently.

 

“Good answer,” she smiled, shutting the door to the tiny fridge with her heeled foot before uncapping two of the bottles and holding one out to him. She temptingly wiggled it in her hand when he didn’t immediately move for it, making him smile.

 

He pushed off the wall to join her, a brush of their hands when he took it from her making him suddenly shy again as if they hadn’t gotten intimately associated with each other’s mouths earlier.

 

“Bottoms up, cowboy,” she announced while clinking her bottle against his. He watched as she tipped her head back to drink, the smooth skin of her neck on display for him with her slightly curled hair falling back over her shoulders. She was way out of his league, and he reminded himself not to do anything stupid to fuck this up.

 

Before she finished, he joined her in downing his bottle - vodka as it turned out. The slight sting of the liquid heated up his chest and shot right to his head, just what he was hoping for to find his courage again.

 

“As cliche’d as this sounds, I don’t normally do this,” she said after finishing, holding a hand up to her mouth as the bite kicked. She screwed the top back on before placing the empty bottle on the counter, and he followed suit. They stared at one another again, his fingers by his side itching to touch her, and she must have noticed his fidgeting, because her gaze dropped to where they were against the sides of his pants.

 

“Maybe we should have another,” he blurted out.

 

Instead of going back to the minibar, she moved toward him until they were toe-to-toe, cutting the air down between them to dangerous levels. She walked her fingers up the front of his t-shirt, her eyes following her hands before they came up to the collar of his jacket and she shifted her gaze to lock on his own eyes as she pushed it off, exchanging a thousand words without a sound.

 

_I want you._

_I want this._

 

She stepped even closer, lifting up on her toes as her hands found a home in the soft hair on the back of his head. His own hands instinctively reached around her to keep her close, one finger hooking into the back belt loop of her jeans and pressing her tight against him. She pressed in closer, tilting her head back until her bottom lip touched his slowly and then stilled.

 

He didn’t know why he had never stopped and enjoyed this position before - this hesitation before a kiss, but he decided he can die, _right like this_ , and regret nothing. He wanted to breathe only her exhalations for the rest of the night.

 

When his eyes started to roll back into his head with the intensity of the pause was when she finally added more pressure with her lips, the top joining in with the bottom which had sunk into the space between his. On the surface this kiss was sweet, their mouths pressed together with a feeling of familiarity, but both sets of their hands were gripping at one another like they were standing at the edge of a cliff with a fear that if either let go, it was over.

 

He decided he had gotten enough nonverbal consent to continue and reached down to grasp the back of her thighs, picking her up and bringing the space between her legs into contact with his growing arousal. He wanted to bury himself in her right this second, cut to the chase to end the delicious torture, but for now he’d just take more friction anyway he could get it.

 

Finding the closest wall, he pressed her against it, freeing one of his hands to grasp her jaw and coax her mouth open with his own. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck, and he decided he’d never felt touch quite like hers.

 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed when he paused to shift his attention to her neck. Her cheeks were flushed and her lip stain was smudged, and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Her skin tasted like the perfect mix of sweet and salty, and he wanted to bottle it up and drink it.

 

She didn’t respond, instead making a small, sexy grunting noise when he bit down on the space between her neck and shoulder, and he filed the response away for future use.

 

She started pulling up at his shirt, managing to bring it up over his head until it was hanging off his arm while he kept her pinned to the wall. He wanted to see more of her, every inch of skin she had, but her blouse had tiny buttons down the front that he had no patience for. Lowering her to the ground and dropping his own shirt, he freed his hands to start pulling up hers.

 

She stopped him, smirking, pushing him a foot away from her.

 

While he caught his breath, her fingers found her top button and proceed to torture the hell out of him as a few inches of flesh came to light as they descended down her chest. All he could see was tan skin and black lace underneath, new miles and miles to explore. When the fabric finally dropped to the floor, she kicked off her heels and reached for his hand before pulling him towards the adjoining bedroom, biting her bottom lip as she walked backwards, and knowing exactly what she was doing to him.

 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

This man she pulled towards her was all hard lines and smooth skin, with a few scattered small tattoos she’d investigate later - but for now she wanted to run her tongue along every damn hill and valley his body had to offer. He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her, and she was so pleased with this mutual attraction that her insides were throbbing at an alarming pace.

 

He flicked the light switch on as they passed the bedroom doorway and she needed to take back some control before she lost it entirely. She couldn't get enough of the way he was staring at her. Instead of leading him all the way to the bed, she turned and guided him to sit on it, a hand to his chest to push him onto his back while she climbed up onto his lap. His hands landed at her waist, both thumbs finding bare skin and skimming across her hips, taking in the view.

 

“Like what you see?” She teased but appreciated him in the same way, running her fingers along the ridges of his abs.

 

“I want to see more,” he confessed as his hands started to trace the skin above the black lace of her La Perla bra, and she was so glad he had found his confidence again. She thought she might have lost him between the front door and the minibar.

 

She rewarded him by reaching behind her back and unclipping it, letting gravity pull it slowly forward down her arms, and she swore she caught the moment his eyes started to dilate. Not a second after she tossed the garment to the side, he was grabbing her elbows and pinning her arms behind her back, making her chest present itself to him. Bowing backwards, she felt like a feast about to be devoured.

 

He kissed the space between her breasts before using his tongue to trace the skin at the top of each where his fingers had done the same a moment ago. He was teasing her for teasing him, she knew it - avoiding her painfully hard tips that were dying for his mouth. When his tongue finally made contact with her left nipple, flicking it gently, she fucking _whimpered_ , and her control started to slip again as he snuck a hand between them to unbutton her pants. She swiveled her hips against him, grinding her core down against his erection, and he groaned into her tit in delight at the friction. If he continued what he was doing to her chest and she kept on grinding on him like this, she knew she could chase her orgasm easily.

 

He had other things in mind though, flipping their position and then helping her shimmy out of her jeans when he stood up. She sat up after he tossed them and kissed the delightful trail of small hairs below his navel before unbuttoning his pants for him. Pushing them down, he stepped out of them after quickly slipping off his shoes.

  
His erection was even more impressive straining only against his navy boxer briefs, and she thought she was actively salivating. He pushed her back before she got to uncover her prize, sliding her further up the bed - the comforter bunching up at the motion - but neither cared as he climbed on top of her and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

 

Only the thin fabric of their undergarments was keeping them from feeling everything, but the pressure of his straining erection hard against her clit was dizzying and she couldn’t help but gyrate her hips to chase the feeling as his lips sought out her own.

 

She had never felt so turned on in her life. She couldn't think of a single previous experience that compared to this, and they had barely gotten to the main event. This unearthly connection they seemed to have was only intensified in this space, or lack there-of, between them now.

 

She sucked on his top lip when he finally touched her where she wanted him to most, his fingers dancing over the fabric covering her core, and she was so close to begging him for more. But Veronica Lodge never begged. Instead she commanded him in a heavy whisper, “ _Take them off_.”

 

His lips trailed down her midline from throat to navel, his tongue dipping out every inch or two to taste her, and she couldn't decide which was worse - feeling his breath through her panties or his nose nudging near her clit as he continued to tease her. The man was literally licking her through the fabric and every tiny bit of skin he hit on the sides was on fire.

 

“ _Archie_.” She urged only so far to tell him again, still not wanting to flat out beg, but _oh_ so desperate.

 

He took mercy on her finally, his fingers slipping under the band tantalizingly slow and lowering her panties down her legs. She had smelled her own arousal before, but now it was clear as day that she was soaked for him.

 

She wanted to write a book about the way he moved back up her body, his lips first kissing the arch of her foot, then her ankle, up her calf and stopping to stretch her leg up to suck on the skin behind her knee.

 

And when he tucked that leg over his shoulder and trailed his mouth up her inner thigh, she was already stifling a moan. He wasted no time now, his tongue flat as he swiped over her newly exposed center, and she decided chapter one would be titled _Archie’s Skilled Tongue_ or alternatively _How I Came in Thirty Seconds._

 

She was fighting so hard not to, but he was sucking on her clit like a hard candy and his fingers were starting to tease her entrance. Her hands had been floundering around on the comforter at her sides, but when he slipped two fingers inside her, she reached down to grasp his hair and hold him _right there_ as he started to pump them.

 

It may have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes, but time lost all meaning as the epicenter of her brain was now down in her core. There were flashing colors all around her as she looked down to watch him. But it was mistake, because he was staring back up at her with that same intensity from before, his dark honey irises blown so wide she couldn’t even see them.

 

And that was it. She was gone - shouting _fuck_ and his name and god knows what else at the ceiling as she came, harder than she could ever remember. _Chapter two_ : _How I Spent Ten Years in a Single Orgasm Courtesy of Archie Andrews._

 

It was endless waves, splashing over and over and relentless, so that she was twisting and closing her legs over his head with the intensity of it all and he had to fight to follow her as she turned.

 

When he couldn’t reach her center anymore with his mouth as she was turned nearly entirely prone, he started sucking a bruise into her hip as his fingers kept up their pace. When she remembered her name and her brain made its way back up into her head, she was able to push his hand away and sat up, pushing his shoulders back down to the bed. She wasted no time removing his remaining article of clothing, her core clenching when she finally saw what she had only been _feeling_ underneath.

 

His tip was oozing when she grasped him in her hand, and he groaned appreciatively. He was smooth and hard here, too, like the rest of the him - veins engorged impressively, and if she wasn’t trying to give him a little taste of his own medicine, she would have been lifting her leg and sliding down onto him immediately.

 

Instead, she bent over, tasting those glistening drops, running her tongue along the veins, and giving him payback for before. His hands found their way into her hair, gentle and not commanding, as she learned which spots made him gasp.

 

When she started to focus her tongue on a little spot underneath the head, he started mumbling something about a condom over and over, and she knew she had him right where she wanted him. She finally took him into her mouth, using her fist to cover the length she couldn’t accommodate comfortably, and she couldn’t believe how turned on she was getting from watching him react. He started murmuring her name as she worked him, adding suction and the hint of her teeth to test what he liked, earning her an extra groan or a squeeze of his hands on her hair when he did.

 

But she didn’t get long acquainted with _not-so-little-Archie_ before he was sitting up and pulling her face up to his to own, kissing her deeply.

 

“That feels incredible, but I don’t want to come yet,” he told her softly when he pulled away.

 

“Why don’t you get that condom now?” She asked him, kissing across his jawline before she shifted backwards and leaned down onto her elbows. He was up and out of the bed in a flash, digging for his wallet in his pants pocket and producing the foil packet to return to the bed. He started to open it, but she took it from him, pushing his shoulders back down again with a devilish grin. She straddled his upper thighs as she took over, removing the condom, tossing the foil somewhere, and grasping his erection.

 

He even groaned when she slid it down over him, his hands steadying on her hips as she shifted up and guided his tip to her core. She slipped slowly onto him, and it felt like coming home - the pulsing deep in her pelvis alive and kicking into high gear. His fingers were digging into her soft curves, pulling her down, and the two of them somehow managed to keep eye contact with one another, though she wanted to throw her head back and sing.

 

He was so deep when she started to stir her hips, little circles so she could keep him there, and her breath caught at the sensation. She used a hand on his thigh to steady herself, and self indulged by bringing her other up to squeeze one of her breasts, arching back a little to change the angle slightly. He thrusted up, small movements that rocked her until she started to pant with the motion.

 

“Fuck, Ronnie.”

 

Archie sat up, grasping her ass in his hands and squeezing, lifting her up and down now in a steady rhythm she helped to keep with her knees on the bed. Their chests were flush against each other, and she was sure one of them must have caught on fire, because there was _so much heat._

 

His hand shifted to the back of her neck and then rolled them down, her back soft to the bed before she linked her ankles across his back. Like the flick of a switch, he thrusted down into her, and she swore she could feel those veins she traced earlier with her tongue. Her breath panted out with each stroke, stars in her peripheral vision from the pleasure and lack of oxygen in her lungs. She reached down between them, seeking out her bundle of nerves, but he beat her to it, his thumb hard on her clit in circles as his forehead found hers.

 

“I need you to come for me, Ronnie.”

 

It’s the sexiest thing she had ever heard, her name in his mouth with _that_ voice, and it took only _one, two, three_ more thrusts of him deep inside her before she clenched down and found that place again where she never wanted to leave. _Chapter Three,_ she thought, _The Second Time He Made Me Come Forever_.

 

Her walls squeezed him so tight, clenching and unclenching involuntarily as she rode the waves, and she could feel when he finally erupted, his hips faltering slightly as he spilled into the condom, twitching deep inside her -  following her into the steady state of rapture.

 

The exhaustion hit suddenly, and he fell completely on to her for a second before he rolled slightly to lessen his weight. She missed him immediately as he slid out of her, her walls twitching again at the motion. Rolling with him, she ended up tucked into his side, panting.

 

“That was.....” she started, but didn’t have the right word to continue.

 

He hummed in agreement, kissing her forehead before sighing contently and closing his eyes.

 

She swore she had visions of sugarplums dancing in her head as she dozed and would never hear that phrase again without thinking of this no-longer-a-stranger man beside her - a stranger who managed to clear her mind and cleanse her soul in a single evening.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the crazy long wait! I had to go get married. ;) Hope you're still enjoying!


	4. Interim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning.  
> Fred is being fishy.  
> Kevin loves onesies.  
> Veronica takes a bath.

 

 

At some point in the night, Archie got up to dispose of the condom and appease his bladder, flicking off the glaring lights and attempting to fix the blankets in the dark to warm the beautiful naked woman in bed with him. She was all-consuming last night, taking his brain and turning it to mush whenever she touched him, and it was the greatest possession he’d ever felt.

 

They had fallen asleep on top of the beige comforter immediately after she rocked his world, tucked into one another for warmth with the lights blazing. He was afraid if he woke her, she’d come to her senses and go, leaving just him in this empty room - him and her scent everywhere with memory.

 

He managed to get most of the sheet out from under her without jostling her, but the bed dipped a bit too much when he slipped in beside her, causing her to stir. He froze, afraid, and held his breath, but she just tucked her feet down beneath the sheet and pulled up on the blankets around them, getting cozy.

 

She was going to stay.

 

_Thank god._

 

When she tossed an arm out to his side of the bed, she finally noticed he was awake and sitting up in the dark.

 

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly, voice thick on sleep like a rich mocha cappuccino.

 

The lyrics came easily to him.

 

_You're the coffee that I need in the morning_

_You're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring_

_Won't you give yourself to me, give it all?_

 

He couldn’t tell if her eyes were open in the dark, and it was a damn shame not to see them.

 

“I’m great, actually,” he replied softly, laying back down and tucking himself in between the sheets. She slid closer, throwing an arm and leg across him, and he was suddenly ready to praise God for this moment despite his lack of any religious upbringing.

 

“Hope you don’t mind cuddling,” She mumbled against his chest and pulled the comforter up by her ear. “I’m cold, and you’re warm.”

 

“I prefer it actually,” he replied as he wrapped his arms around her, miles of smooth skin to trace along, remembering his tongue doing the same hours prior. She tilted her head up just far enough to kiss his jaw before snuggling back into his side, and her lips left a tingle in their retreat.

 

_You don't know, babe_

_When you hold me_

_And kiss me slowly_

_It's the sweetest thing_

 

Sleep once again came quickly with her limbs wrapped around him, lyrics floating around and around in his head to be captured with pen on paper in the morning.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

Veronica felt only slightly guilty as she waited for her driver at the front of the hotel in the early morning hours, watching the steam rise out the street grates like smoke from a fire. The smell of the crisp air rejuvenated her after so little sleep, and she took more cleansing deep breathes against the cold.

 

Last night had been incredible, exactly what the doctor ordered for her mental and physical health. Her mind cleared and she felt a lightness foreign to her for months - all because she threw caution to the October wind and let her body make all the decisions.

 

_Extremely good decisions_ , at that.

 

The delicious ache between her legs brought her memories of hands and lips and wandering fingers, and she would not be forgetting one Mr. Archie Andrews any time soon.

 

She was torn between leaving her number or not leaving anything at all for him when she slipped out of his room quietly, taking a last look at his darling head against the pillows, the sheet dipping low on his hips revealing all those glorious muscles and small tattoos she had whispered into last night.  He lived in L.A. and she here, and she was definitely not in the market for a relationship. An 18 year old version of herself would have left her number with a _If you’re ever back in town_ note and a girlish heart, but she was too mature for that now.

 

No, Veronica Lodge wasn’t one to ask for more.

 

Her inbox was imploding and she had three reminders already lined up on her notifications for meetings today, pinging on her phone every ten minutes, not to mention the texts from her friends asking if she was okay after her quick exit last night. She’d need at least an hour back at her apartment to shower and change, so she texted Andrea to move her 8 am meeting as she slipped into the leather backseat of her hired car, reaching for the double almond latte waiting for her and pulling out a few Tums from her purse to cool the ever present burn in her stomach. While last night had been all pleasure, it was now time for business.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

Archie left his lunch meeting, spilling out onto the sunshine filled grimy sidewalk with a spring in his step and a laundry list of to-dos, first of which was calling his father. _Again_.

 

“How’s the big apple, son?”

 

“Pretty big,” Archie chuckled at the recurring joke as he turned south to walk for a few blocks before catching the subway back to the hotel. “I met with that legend I told you about, and I’m going to spend the next couple of weeks with him on an album he’s putting together.”

 

“That’s great, but will that interfere with your current commitments?” Fred asked, curiously.

 

“No, it’s actually perfect timing. Most of my other projects are wrapping up back in L.A, and the others that I’m still working on won’t be in production for a while.”

 

“So that’s it? My son is moving back to the east coast?” Fred asked.

 

“Not exactly. Don’t get too excited just yet. This is still just a temporary gig,” Archie explained. “I’m heading back to L.A. tomorrow for some other meetings and to pack up some things. Then I’ll be back here for a few weeks to see how it goes.”

 

“I can’t complain about anything that brings my son closer to home, even if it’s only temporary,” Fred replied.

 

Archie jumped on the opportunity. “Can I come visit, Dad? When’s a good time?”

 

The pause on the line was excruciatingly painful to Archie as he waited for the response.

 

“Son....I just don’t want you to go changing plans around for me. You don’t need to come see me. You have too many important things to do.”

 

“Visiting you is one of those important things, Dad. _Top of the list_ ,” Archie replied, with a reassuring yet forceful tone.

 

This endless back and forth of the same old argument was weighing on Archie like a ton of bricks. It was always _You’re too busy, son_ , _I have too much going on here right now_ , _The guest bedroom is a mess_ , _Your mother is coming to town, you know how that goes._

It had been three months since Archie had last seen his father, and even then it was only because he showed up on his father’s doorstep as a surprise without warning, and Fred volleyed between hugging him and looking put out by him the whole weekend.

 

“How about for Christmas, son? That way you won’t be as busy and I’ll have everything tidy and decorated around here.”

 

Archie sighed. Christmas was still weeks away, but he was tired of arguing about this. “I’m getting up there to see you, Dad. _Before_ Christmas. But we’ll talk about it later, I’m about to get on the train. I love you.”

 

“Okay, Arch. Love you. Be safe.”

 

When the call disconnected, Archie had the urge to throw the phone against the wall as he descended down to the platform, dodging puddles of rain and probably urine on the steps. He’d been in a funk all day, minus the time he spent with Angelo Petraglia during lunch, building his career, and he couldn’t help but blame a certain voluptuous dark haired vixen who ghosted him this morning.

 

To say he was disappointed when he woke up alone in a very big cold bed was the understatement of the decade. Only made so much worse when he didn’t find a note.

 

And he had checked nearly everywhere - short of lifting up the couch - before he had collapsed dejectedly back on the bed.

 

He for sure thought they had something between them - him and this elusive Veronica No-Last-Name-But-Rocked-My-World - and he wanted to kick himself for never asking for it. He had quickly written out the lyrics that she inspired, after brewing an in-room coffee on the pitiful excuse for a coffee maker, the ones that had floated through his dreams. He had never written anything so quickly before and was shocked at the near completeness of them.

 

As his train pulled up, he could only hope now that he’d somehow run into her again, a _fourth_ time, in this huge city, and just _maybe_ the universe would still on his side.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 “What about this?” Kevin asked her, holding up a teeny baby onesie advertising _My Momma’s Milkshakes Bring All the Babies to the Yard._

 

Veronica arched a knowing eyebrow at him before turning back to the rack of baby clothes she was browsing through, the satin lined hangers more bulky than the tiny scraps of cotton adorning them.

 

“Yeah, alright. Slightly trashy, admittedly,” Kevin smiled. “Still getting it.”

 

The _trashy, but still getting it_ pile was growing ever so quickly in a place that Kevin had scoffed at initially when she suggested it for their afternoon shopping excursion after her manicure. But after they arrived, he kept repeating the name of the adorable establishment _Bonne Nuit_ , the quaint boutique baby store on Lexington and 82nd, in a terrible French accent while pulling every word-print onesie he could find from the racks.

 

Veronica’s pile was frustratingly small, but Baby Blossom-Topaz was exceedingly difficult to shop for without knowing the gender or color scheme. And she refused to buy the caliber of clothes that Kevin was happily drowning in.

 

“Look at all these adorable dresses I can’t buy.” She held up yet another tiny frilly mauve gown before clutching it to her chest dramatically. “I need this baby to be a girl, damn it.”

 

“I don’t care what it is, as long as I never have to change its diaper,” Kevin replied as he gathered up his dozen or so choices from the table display behind him. “I just want to be Fun Uncle Kevin, who spoils it rotten, and never babysits.”

 

Veronica followed him to the register, pulling a cute stuffed animal elephant into her pitiful pile of purchases. “I bought Toni a beautiful silk robe and a gift certificate for a massage, so hopefully this is enough.”

 

“Veronica, Pearl is catering the baby shower. You’re already doing way more than enough,” Kevin replied, bumping her hip with his own.

 

“Speaking of which, you still haven’t told me what I can send to the theater for next week. I need to be sure my best friend’s cast is well fed for opening night!”

 

Kevin’s eyes went wide as he turned away from the cashier ringing up his goodies to look down at her. “Oh my god, that’s the longest I’ve gone without remembering it’s next week. I had a solid twenty minutes of stress-free baby shopping and now my angina is back! You’re the worst best friend ever!”

 

Veronica rolled her eyes as she tossed the elephant at him. “Oh stop, you do this every time.”

 

“But this show is my baby,” he said, voice dramatically deepening as he shook his hands out in front of him with emphasis. “My literal baby.”

 

“Not literal. You’re not birthing it.”

 

“Aren’t I?” He asked rhetorically as he dug into the inside pocket in his pea coat for his wallet. “Because I certainly feel the labor. And I’m not sleeping. I keep having the same nightmare about an evil clown in the lobby of the theater chasing away the critics with a hotdog cannon.”

 

“A hotdog cannon?” she asked confused.

 

“Like at a baseball game. You know, to shoot hotdogs into the stands,” he explained as he took his bagged purchases from the cashier and stepped aside for Veronica to pay for her items.

 

“I’ve never been to a baseball game,” she explained. “But you have _nothing_ to worry about. It’s going to be a smashing success, and then we get to celebrate. I’m thinking cocktails at Mastro’s so you can just scurry on over to meet us after you’re done rubbing elbows with whomever.”

 

“I may need a drink before the show, too. Hard liquor,” he replied as he buttoned up his coat.

 

At his words, a memory of a pale cloudy drink entered her mind, followed quickly by images of lightly inked smooth skin against rumpled sheets. She pursed her lips for a moment before asking, “Have you ever had a lemon drop martini?”

 

“You know I don’t drink anything from a sugar rimmed glass. Too sticky,” he replied, taking Veronica’s bag from the cashier.

 

“You can get it without the sugar,” she said, as she closed up her purse and they made their way out of the store.

 

“Does this question have a point?” he asked.

 

“I’ve just decided I like them. Sweet, with just enough tart and bite.” _Just like Archie._

 

Kevin’s eyebrow arched with intrigue as he held the door for her. “Does this mean we’re drinking right now?”

 

“Of course it does,” she replied, sliding her Bvlgari sunglasses on to step out into the afternoon light.

 

“Excellent.”

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 “I’ll be back in town tomorrow night. Betty is dying to have you over for dinner, what do you say?”

 

Archie dogged a cab turning the corner as he hustled across the busy street, phone to his ear. “Ah Jug, we’re gunna keep missing each other. I just booked a flight out tomorrow morning. I need to pick up a couple things in L.A. and settle out some contracts, but I’ll be back early next week. Tuesday probably. Raincheck?”

 

“I’ll tell Betty to plan for Wednesday, schedules pending. I’m so glad you’re going to be around for a while, Arch. Glad this trip went well for you. It’ll be nice to catch up.”

 

“It will be, definitely. Hey, how’s JB?” Archie asked as he slipped in the front door of the Casablanca, shifting his dinner take-away bag under his arm and giving a wave to the front desk man.

 

“She’s great. Just started student teaching. Her college friends aren’t complete assholes. She’s got a cat.”

 

“A cat?” Archie chuckled as he stepped into the elevator. Jughead hated cats.

 

“A cat. A big fat orange one. Kind of growing on me since I think it means she broke up with her secret boyfriend. She didn’t say anything, but I haven’t seen her smirking into her phone since I got here, so I’m taking it as a good sign.”

 

“She’s in college. Let her live. I think you’ve run off enough boys in her lifetime at this point. You don’t have to do the whole protective older brother thing with everyone she hangs out with.”

 

“Of course, I do. And even more so while I’m here since I can’t do it three thousand miles away.”

 

Archie chuckled and shook his head as he exited the elevator. “Well, tell her I said hello.”

 

“I will. By the way, she named the cat Archie.”

 

He could hear the smirk in Jughead’s voice and couldn’t contain his surprised laughter.

 

“Should I be flattered?” Archie asked.

 

“Probably not. It’s ugly as hell.”

 

They ended the call laughing as Archie unlocked his room, ready to dive into the burger in the bag clutched under his arm. The empty liquor bottles were gone and the bed made, and he was hit with a feeling he couldn’t quite name at the loss of evidence of last night’s activities, all traces of Veronica wiped clean. But certainly the images were burned into his brain, and those weren’t vacating any time soon.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

The subtle sound of shifting bubbles and crackle of a wood wick candle filled the en suite, the flame dancing in the dimmed lighting across the glass and porcelain. Veronica flicked through emails on her phone with one hand, a speedy thumb typing replies, while a glass of red sat in her other, and her toes brushed over the chrome faucet.  The perfumed water was hot and her cheeks were flushed from the temperature, but her muscles were giving thanks for the heat as she sunk her shoulders further down in the tub. One last reply off to S.P. to approve his extra bartender shift and then she tossed the electronic extension of her brain off onto a towel on the floor.

 

Leon Bridges’ voice crooned over the speaker system as she rested her head back against the ledge, hair piled up on her head. This week had been a whirlwind, and it was only Thursday. While an endless list of unread emails clogged up her phone and her calendar was made denser by the hour, all day she just simply had to close her eyes to put herself back in that bed with that man. She still felt the soreness between her legs hours later - that delicious ache she hadn’t felt for ages to remind her she’s still alive.

 

Beneath the water, she traced over the bruise he sucked into her skin, fingers dancing over the sensitive spot on her hip she had noticed in the mirror this morning. She felt a new energy - how much was due to the newly vacated space in her apartment and how much was due to a lover’s hands, she wasn’t entirely sure, but definitely both played a leading role.

 

When she had arrived home after drinks with Kevin, she had finally opened Reggie’s letter, which had been burning a hole in her Persian rug. Its contents was unsurprising. What was surprising was how little emotion it evoked. They had had little in the way of argument the last few weeks, only about this. And now the ball was in her court, where it was going to stay for tomorrow or next week, or possibly, even next month.

 

For now, she would continuing sipping her Sangiovese and re-living last night in her brain as the steam rose up off the water.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

Friday and Saturday breezed by in a fury of meetings, and before she knew it, Veronica was standing in the middle of the Topaz-Blossom living room Sunday afternoon socializing whilst simultaneously eyeballing the catering table for weaknesses.

 

“I’ve told V this already, but I swear to god this man has magic hands,” Kevin swooned to the small group.

 

“Where did you meet him again?” Betty asked as she took a sip of champagne.

 

“Out after a rehearsal, he’s a friend of one my leads.”

 

“And when do we get to meet him?” Josie inquired, eyes curious. “Opening night?”

 

“He says he can’t make it. Plus I think it’s too early to throw him to you vultures,” Kevin replied, shaking his head.

 

“I take offense to that,” Veronica cut in, tearing her gaze away from a waitress. “We haven’t chased off one of your boyfriends in years.”

 

“What V means is, we would _never_ be disrespectful to your date, Kevin.” Betty added quickly.

 

“Unless he was secretly screwing a woman and repeatedly lying to you about it until the three of us finally caught him out with her,” Josie shrugged and the three women clinked their glasses together, trying not to smile.

 

“Did I miss a toast?” Cheryl eased into the group, cutting off any reply Kevin had in mind, and raised a glass of her own clutched in red talon nails.

 

“They’re just toasting their own sleuthing, Cher,” Kevin replied with an eye roll. “Have I told you I love that dress yet?” He gestured to her cream taffeta button up. “I’ve been trying to get you in neutrals for years.”

 

Cheryl smiled, pleased while twirling around. “Since I’m going to be a Mumsy, I thought I’d bring a little softness into my closet. I’m glad you approve.” She gestured to her wife socializing with other guests across the room. “And since my better half has been wearing more pastels, I thought I’d be supportive in brightening up our life for our future off-spring.”

 

“Well, I certainly approve. We could all use a little sunshine in our lives,” Kevin tipped his glass against Cheryl’s.

 

“And speaking of sunshine, how are you doing, Veronica?” Cheryl’s eyes shimmered in the raven haired woman’s direction.

 

“Just fine....” Veronica started, confused, “but I don’t get the sunshine reference.”

 

“Well you’ve been staring at the caterers all afternoon, I’m surprised they haven’t burst into flames yet.”

 

The group laughed and Betty threw her arm around Veronica’s shoulders supportively, whose eyes were squinting in defense back at Cheryl. “Don’t call V out for wanting to make sure everything’s perfect for you.”

 

Cheryl leaned in to kiss Veronica’s rouged cheek. “I couldn’t resist. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything’s perfect.”

 

“Cheryl Blossom, impeding Mommyhood looks good on you,” Josie said. “And agreed, V. The food is outstanding, as always.”

 

“Hey, Kev, before I forget, are we picking up our tickets for opening night at the box office or are you able to send mobile passes?” Betty asked, accepting another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

 

“Box office, of course. You all need ticket stubs to commemorate the occasion. I’ll have seven waiting there for you.”

 

Veronica did quick mental math as she, too, took another drink. “Who’s the seventh for?”

 

“Whomever your heart desires, V. Want to bring a date?” Kevin replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

“Don’t start,” Veronica cocked her head sideways threateningly.

 

“You’re my date,” Josie told her. “We don’t need men.”

 

Veronica smiled appreciatively. While the ticket was likely originally put aside for Reggie, she was certainly not in any position to be looking to bring a date.

 

“Maybe Jughead’s out-of-town friend would like to join us. I’ll ask when I meet him Wednesday. He’s coming over for dinner,” Betty offered.

 

“Jughead doesn’t seem like the type to have friends who enjoy the theater,”  Kevin said, furrowing his brows in thought.

 

Betty shrugged. “Who knows? I know absolutely nothing about this guy except that he grew up with Jughead in Riverdale.”

 

_Riverdale_.

 

Veronica had a sense of deja vu but couldn’t quite identify the reason before she was distracted by an empty tray of appetizers awaiting attention from the apparently blind waitstaff.

 

Cheryl cut in, “Grew up with Jughead? I feel sorry for him already.”

 

“Ah! There’s our old Cheryl!” Josie exclaimed.

 

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referenced here is Best Part by Daniel Caesar.  
> Bonne Nuit is a real store in NYC! Baby clothes galore.  
> Do they serve champagne at a baby shower? I would.  
> This is a bit of a filler chapter, lots of dialogue, as you now already know, and I'm sorry these two don't have any face time, but they're obviously thinking about each other. Don't fret too much. 
> 
> Also, V is not an alcoholic, don't worry. I just realized she's drinking in every chapter, but shes an adult who drinks in moderation, I swear!
> 
> Next chapter: Jughead returns, Betty makes dinner, and opening night! Oh, what awaits these two?


	5. Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty makes dinner. Veronica gets a phone call. Archie accepts an invitation.

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

The wind broke through Archie’s jacket like piercing needles as he traveled the few blocks from the subway station towards Jughead’s address. He swore the temperature had dropped another ten degrees in New York while he had been in L.A. for the past few days, and he regretted not grabbing the warmer coat he had brought back with him.

The heat on the west coast had been a tease during his short visit home — the dangle of the proverbial carrot of golden weather when he stepped off the plane into pacific standard time like _Are you sure you want to leave again?_ California did have its perks.

 _But New York certainly had its charms, too,_ he thought as he dodged another taxi, almost running into its back bumper as it stopped abruptly in the crosswalk, causing the pedestrians to alter their speed to avoid it. New York was always _on_. 

His internal clock was running a little haywire, short circuiting his reaction time — the three hour time change back and forth messed with his head a bit. Having slept in until ten this morning with passing dreams of creamy skin and dark curls, Archie had spent the afternoon trying to catch up on some of the lost morning hours with his guitar, fresh chords and melodies piling up on scraps of paper in his chicken-scratch handwriting. 

_As if you don't remember_

_As if you can forget_

_It's only been a moment_

He was meeting with Angelo again tomorrow and wanted to have some fresh work available if needed, jetlag be damned. But tonight he was looking forward to seeing his old childhood friend and meeting his fiancé. 

Jughead wasn’t one for talking about his feelings often, especially not over the phone — which comprised the majority of interaction they’ve had for the past ten years — but from the brief moments Jug had mentioned his girl, Archie could tell this was the _real_ _thing_. He was excited to meet whoever she was that managed to put so much flourish in his friend’s voice.

It was a shame Archie didn’t have someone in his life he could say the same about right now. He had always pictured his and Jug’s big reunion as such — matching idiot grins as they push their better halves forward in greeting, showing off their girls like _Look! I’m successful in life_ and _love._

He had gotten close, just once, during the last semester of college. Valerie had been in one of his senior composition classes, and they hit it off on the very first day, talking over coffee after class. A few late night group assignments later, they were spending all their time playing around in the school’s cramped recording studios strumming guitars and murmuring into microphones, their chemistry quickly pushing them into bed. 

Valerie had given up on the L.A. dream a year after graduation, sick of rejection and working in coffee houses to pay the bills, moving back to Virginia to work for her mother’s insurance company — and leaving Archie a bit broken hearted. 

There hadn’t been anyone serious since.

His empty stomach rumbled as he found Jughead’s building, pressing the buzzer for apartment 1118 on the intercom. He waited in the cold with his hands in his pockets, blowing puffs of warm breath into the wind and thinking about west coast sunshine while staring at frozen bricks and gray cement.

“Yes?” A cheerful feminine voice came over the speaker amongst a buzz of static.

“Hey, it’s Archie. Jug’s friend?” 

“Great! Come on up!” The buzzing noise was loud as he walked through the now unlocked door. The warmth of the small lobby was welcoming as he shook out his frozen fingers and cold bones. The building was modest, but clean with a few large plants adorning the small entry, and he admired the crown molding as he waited for the elevator to arrive. He wondered what kind of success the couple might have to be able to afford to live in such a nice building in New York. Archie had learned to appreciate architecture working summers with his father’s construction company, and this building certainly had some admirable charm that likely didn’t come cheap.

Those summers in high school had been his favorite — days spent in the hot sun learning the modest joy of grueling manual labor with cool nights spent with Jug at Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe laughing over burgers and shakes — and even later nights in his dad’s borrowed pick-up truck at the drive-in learning the art of love with pretty girls.

The memories brought a smile to his face as the elevator ascended. It had been too long since he’d seen his old friend in the flesh.

When Jughead opened the apartment door, Archie felt like no time had passed at all. He sported a disheveled mop of dark hair and a flannel over a T-shirt and jeans with his face always on its way into a semi-state of a scowl. Dueling grins shined before they bear hugged and added some back slaps in mutual greeting. 

“It’s been a few years, Arch.” Jughead ushered him in warmly. “Hope you’re hungry. Betty made enough for the whole building.”

The presumed Betty turned from the stove when Jughead lead Archie into the main living space, an eclectic spacious room with plenty of bookshelves and cozy seating. She was most definitely Jughead’s type — blonde and leggy — and Archie reminded himself to tease his friend later about managing to convince someone as pretty as her to marry him.

“What Jug means is, welcome to our home!” Betty nudged Jughead in the ribs as he tried to sneak his fingers into the pot on the stove. 

“Archie, Betty. Betty, Archie,” Jug sloppily offered introductions while leaning around Betty’s defensive arm. It was comforting to see some things never changed.

Archie stuck his hand out to shake Betty’s while she swatted again at her fiancé’s thieving hand.

“Very nice to meet you. Make yourself at home.” Her grip was firm, and she cupped his hand in both of hers warmly for a moment before turning back to the stove. “Not yet, Jug! _It isn’t cooked all the way._ ”

“Tastes done,” Jughead replied, shrugging before walking to the fridge. “What do you drink these days, Arch? I don’t have any Keystone Light, unfortunately,” he joked, referencing the cheap cans they would steal from his dad growing up. _More fond memories._

“In that case, I’ll drink whatever beer you have,” Archie smiled, slipping off his jacket. Betty magically appeared next to him to take it to the closet before he even had a chance to wonder what to do with it.

“So, Archie. Tell me about yourself. All I know is you grew up in Riverdale.” Betty returned back to the stove while Archie took the offered bottle of beer from Jughead, a label quite a step up from the cheap cans of their past.

He sat down at one of the kitchen stools, Jughead joining him to start snacking on the charcuterie board laid out on the counter, truly a spread for at least a dozen people. Jughead had not been exaggerating that much. 

“Well, after high school, I went to USC - University of Southern California,” he clarified. “Dual majored in business and music composition, and stuck it out in L.A. after graduation just couch surfing and eating packs of ramen and tuna until I sold my first song.”

“That must have been amazing. Your first big break after all that work,” Betty affirmed, turning off the stove and covering up whatever was in the pot, delicious smells wafting up into the air.

“It was. The best feeling in the world,” Archie agreed. 

“I haven’t told her yet, but Betts listens to some of the stuff you’ve written,” Jughead smirked, leaning over to snag a piece of salami.

Betty turned around, pulling the apron off and tilting her head, intrigued. “Really?”

“Really,” Jughead confirmed. “Arch, you work with Cary Brothers, right?”

“ _Oh my God_! You’re kidding?” Betty’s eyes went wide in delight. 

Archie smiled, nodding, before turning his head to his friend. “How do you know that? You’re checking up on me?” 

“Don’t get excited, I’m not stalking you,” Jughead joked. “Fred always makes me and Dad listen to your stuff when I’m visiting home. It’s really good.”

Archie’s chest tightened a bit as the moment went from warm to cool, thinking about his father and wondering how often Jug got back there. _Wondering_ why his dad would see _him,_ but not his own son. But Betty began speaking before he could get too worked up about it.

“ _Which songs?”_

Archie blinked away the feelings of homesickness before answering. “Umm, Disappear...Ride…”

“ _Blend_?” Betty pressed. “Did you work on Blend?”

“Easy, Betts,” Jughead teased, before popping an olive in his mouth. “He’s just a mere mortal.”

Archie laughed, “Yes, I helped with Blend.”

“That’s my favorite!” She leaned over the counter, excitement and envy in her eyes, and he’s grateful for the distraction. “So you’ve _met_ him?”

“A few times, yes,” Archie grinned, happy to delight her with a tale of the time Cary bought him a beer after a writing session. Meeting these talented artists was definitely a fun perk of the job, particularly when they were down to earth.

“So how long are you in town this time, Arch?” Jughead asked, saving him from Betty’s further interrogation after she asked what Cary _smelled_ like. 

“To be determined,” Archie replied, truthfully. “At least a couple of weeks. I need to find a place to sublet for a month or two.” He was scheduled to look at apartments starting tomorrow, his inbox filled with listings sent from the company. 

“You can definitely stay here until you find something,” Betty offered quickly, removing another dish from the fridge.

“I appreciate it, but the company is covering my hotel now. So there’s no rush.”

“If you change your mind, there’s a pretty solid futon in the office,” Jughead nodded his head towards the other end of the apartment. “Especially good for daytime napping.”

“Not so good when you have a deadline and you’re snoozing the afternoon away, though,” Betty teased, carrying over the cast iron casserole dish from the stove to the table behind them. Archie hadn’t noticed when he walked in, but the table looked like something out of a magazine, with fan folded napkins and a fresh flower centerpiece perfuming the air. Domestic and sophisticated.

Betty shook her head when the men asked if she needed help, ushering them to sit before pulling warming bread out of the oven. It truly smelled heavenly.

“How is the next great American novel coming?” Archie asked, nudging his fist against Jughead’s shoulder before they took their seats.

“It _isn’t_. I’ve been blocked for weeks.” Jughead reached for the water pitcher as he sighed audibly.

“He’s exaggerating,” Betty took her seat, passing the bread around in a basket, the golden buns causing Archie’s mouth to salivate immediately. “He’s got loads written already. He’s just not speed-racing through it like he usually does. It’ll be wonderful like the last one, I’m _positive_.” 

Betty beamed across the table at her half grimacing fiancé, who was trying hard not to smile at the compliments. Archie hadn’t seen his friend ever look so joyful before, so content and settled in. Usually on edge and ready to pounce in high school, Jughead couldn’t sit still growing up, constantly looking around and taking note of the people around him, ready for interrogation at all times. Always Fight or Flight.

But _this_ Jughead was a picture of domesticity and adoration -- dining on a home cooked meal across a beautiful table from his gal with a sparkling ring on her finger.

Archie was shocked. 

And suddenly so very lonely.

“Anyone special in your life, Archie?” Betty asked as if she could read his mind as she filled up his water glass from the pitcher Jughead passed.

A haunting flash of raven hair and dark eyes invaded his vision. _Again_. That smooth skin and those breathy moans hitting notes he stitched into a song. _Veronica_.

_It's only been a moment_

_It's only been a lifetime_

“Unfortunately not.” 

“Before I forget, I wanted to ask you — our friend Kevin’s play is opening on Broadway Friday,” Betty said as she lifted the lid from the main dish, the smell of garlic and lemon so enticing that Archie would agree with whatever she said next. “We have an extra ticket and would love for you to join us.”

It was so nice to be surrounded by _real_ _people_ again. He didn’t hesitate a beat. “Count me in.”

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t care _what_ awards he’s won. He’s a misogynistic, self-congratulatory nitwit and I _refuse_ to entertain him.” Veronica threw her glasses at her desk, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her index fingers as they slid across the cherry wood.

“But Ms. Lodge,” Andrea started again delicately.

“Andrea. _No_.” The nauseating throbbing in her head was rivaling the ache of her traitorous stomach this morning, and she did _not_ need to be dealing with this right now.

She desperately needed a vacation. Maybe she could escape to Paris next week. She’d honestly only had _one_ _day_ of feeling normal in the past month, possibly the last _year_. One day when she felt immersed in her old self — the Veronica who didn’t let stress choke her and eat up her insides — that one day she was worshipped like a goddess, every square inch of her skin relaxing under the touch of a stranger’s fingers..

And now she was back to running out of antacids.

“ _Veronica_. Steven Olson is on the committee for the James Beard Nominations. Piss in his martini if you want. But you _have_ to feed him. I’m making the reservation.” Her secretary had some balls, the precise reason she hired her. “And if you don’t sign _this_ today you’re going to lose the deal.” Andrea punctuated the threat by slapping the file down on the desk before strutting out the room. 

Veronica kept her eyes closed as the door closed and her secretary left her alone with that damn menacing contract. 

Her fingers found her phone quickly, and she thankfully waited only two rings before her best friend picked up.

“Hello?” 

“ _Betty_.” Her voice was a little unsteady. 

“V? What’s wrong?” 

“ _I don’t think I can go through with it_.” Veronica almost whispered, trying to hide the call from Andrea, who heard _everything_ that went on in her office even if she’d never admitted it.

“Through with what?” 

“Reggie’s contract.” She reached for her bottle of water to fight off the tacky feeling in her mouth, almost knocking it over in her haste. “ _I can’t do it._ ”

“Isn’t it a bit late to decide you have feelings for—“

“Not _that_ contract,” Veronica cut her off quickly. “Of course, not _that_ contract. I’m talking about the _residential_ building, the Madison project. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I see the way people are looking at me now. Like they pity me,” Veronica explained. Just today she had gotten no less than four mournful looks on the elevator ride up to the twenty-eighth floor, mostly from middle aged women with very large diamonds on their left hands. “And that’s only going to continue if I enter into this project with him. I can’t escape it if he’s constantly in my orbit.”

“Wasn’t this something they warned you might happen after…after it was _over_?” Betty asked, phrasing her words carefully. “During the interviews?”

“Yes, but…” Veronica chewed her bottom lip, recalling all of those weeks of preparatory sessions. “But he’s out in public with _her_ now. We didn’t write anything about a grace period for this kind of thing, and word has gotten around that he’s _moved on quickly.”_

“Can’t you ask him to cool it for a little while longer?” Betty asked delicately.

“He’s already waited a year. I can’t ask him to do that. But that’s not the point,” Veronica insisted. “The point is, I don’t want to stand next to him at a ribbon cutting ceremony with people looking at me thinking anything less than _Damn, look at that successful woman in those amazing heels.”_

Veronica picked up her discarded glasses before flipping open the file, anticipating flames flicking up off the page. “If I sign this, they’re going to be thinking _Damn, look at that pathetic woman who can’t walk away_ _in those amazing heels.”_

“Veronica Lodge. I cannot believe the pity party you are throwing yourself right now.” 

Leave it to Betty to be _an Andrea_ today. 

“You’ve never cared about crap like that. Where is my resilient V? You said this was the deal of the decade. And you’re going to let some gossip get the better of you? _And_ your company? After everything you’ve given up in the last three years for this?”

Betty had a point. This was all part of the plan. Indefinite business stability in exchange for three years of her personal life. 

“But B—”

“Veronica,” Betty cut _her_ off this time. “Is this an amazing deal?”

“Yes,” Veronica begrudgingly answered.

“Then _sign_ the damn thing,” Betty insisted.

Veronica sighed into the phone, lifting up the pile of papers and thumbing at all the yellow _Sign Me!_ flags hanging out the bottom. She shouldn’t let gossip get the better of her. Or her company.

“You wanted me to talk you into this, right?” Betty asked after a beat of silence. “I didn’t read this conversation wrong?”

“Of course I wanted you talk me into this,” Veronica admitted, picking up her pen and starting with her initials on page one. The inky V.L. glistened on the page for a second before drying.  “I just need you to distract me while I sign all these damn pages.”

Betty giggled. “Good. So let’s talk about how Cheryl has returned _half_ of the baby shower gifts already.”

  

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

Veronica had been right when she said one had to be vigilant about not losing yourself in the city, Archie thought as he pushed lukewarm pasta across a chipped plate with his fork. He felt as though the world around him was oblivious to him, one small insignificant man in a city of millions. Chatter surrounded him as he sat at the bar of some random restaurant he stumbled into, nonsensical noise he couldn’t filter clouding the air  over some elevator music playing from an unseen speaker. 

 _Lonely in a crowded room._ Seemed like the start of a pretty morbid song.

Jughead and Betty had offered an open invitation to him to join them whenever he wanted, but between dinner last night and the play opening tomorrow, he didn’t want to impose too much on the couple.

He had thought about maybe renting a car and driving up to Riverdale tonight, but he could already picture the look in his Dad’s eyes if he arrived unannounced again. 

Archie desperately needed to sit down with him and have a conversation for once, exchanging real words instead of the superficial pleasantries they’d get through before Archie inevitably asked the wrong thing and his Dad clammed up, ending the call prematurely. But between apartment showings all afternoon and an early morning meeting tomorrow, he didn’t have enough time.

Maybe he’d do it next week — spend at least two days there and force some real talk. Force his Dad to tell him the truth. Refuse to leave if he wouldn’t.

“Not any good?” The young woman next to him turned to look at him as she spoke. He hadn’t noticed her really before now as he was alternating between staring ahead at the bar shelves or down at his plate of food for the last hour.

“I’m sorry?”

She pointed at his plate. “Your pasta. Not any good?” She brushed blonde hair behind her ear and turned her body on the stool to face him a bit more squarely, smiling. She was attractive, probably around his age if he had to guess. 

“Oh.” He looked down at the plate, his hand still pushing his fork around monotonously. “It’s fine.”

The woman nodded and turned back to the bar, reaching for her drink. Archie realized she had been trying to flirt with him, and his bored tone didn’t incite any further conversation from her.

As lonely as he was feeling, he wasn’t interested.

Not when every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was _her_.

Onyx haired temptress. Painted lips running down his chest. Scarlet nails tracing the black ink on his skin like she was trying to memorize the lines. 

_Devil's on your shoulder_

_Strangers in your head_

She was haunting him. 

Archie toyed with the idea of going back to the bar where he had met her, maybe asking the bartender who she was and how to contact her. A futile search of _Veronica_ and _NYC_ in Google’s search bar while he waited to board his flight earlier in the week had lead him only to a women’s fashion website — and while he briefly considered calling the listed number on the off chance there was _actually_ someone there named Veronica — he wasn’t sure how to ask _Did you rock my world last week?_ in a non-creepy manner were someone to come to the phone. 

She didn’t want to be found, he presumed, having never told him her last name and leaving him without a trace after their amazing night between the sheets. He would never see her again.

And he’d just have to get over it.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re _sure_ you don’t need me to find a temp while I’m on maternity leave, V?”

Toni’s hand rubbed small circles on her swollen belly as she leaned against the mahogany bar of the empty club. 

In the daytime, Hedonica was too bright — all the lights shining and making the onyx painted walls seem tacky and sticky as the cleaning crew moved tables and chairs to sweep the floors. The red velvet curtains on the stage were shook out and spot cleaned as needed, and the day crew polished water stains off glasses and dusted behind bottles.  An air of business in a usual place of pleasure. The man behind the curtain, so to speak, of the hottest burlesque club in the city. 

“I’m confident Cheryl can manage by herself.”

The _woman_ behind the curtain, to be more correct. 

Veronica had stopped in unannounced after finishing up a meeting with an accountant two blocks away. Under the disguise of _just checking on the renovations in the dressing room_ , she had gotten into a habit of peeking in on her tiny oh-so-pregnant bar manager whenever she was nearby. 

“You mean, you’re confident Cheryl would terrorize anyone who’d fill in?” Toni smirked knowingly.

“Same thing, right?” Veronica grinned back. 

Cheryl had been floor manager of Hedonica since before the space had even existed, helping plan the aesthetics of the decor and hand selecting the performers since day one. When Veronica had hired Toni all those years ago, she knew from their first introductions that she would be the only person able to work day in and day out with the vivacious redhead. 

After a year of financial success, the pair admitted their blooming relationship in Veronica’s office along with handing in Cheryl’s resignation, following the policy of No Fraternizing Amongst the Staff. Veronica had torn up the piece of paper, citing an exception to the rule for _inter-manager_ relations, and wished them well. If ever there was a pair able to compartmentalize work and play, it was these two. _Most_ of the time.

“As long as you’re sure. But I do think you’ll need one for Cheryl when she goes on leave after me,” Toni admitted. “I’m not as capable of double duty like she is.”

Veronica kept her smile as she slid onto a barstool and smoothed out her dress. “You are _more than_ _capable_ , but don’t fret. I know just the perfect person to bring in. He’s—”

The shrill ring of her cellphone cut her off, a brisk cadence of notes signaling a certain _someone_ was calling. 

Toni recognized the ring tone, squeezing Veronica’s hand quickly while giving her a double eyebrow raise before she stepped away to busy herself out of earshot.

Veronica managed to snag the phone before it went to voicemail, silencing the annoying tone she had chosen for one particular person.

“ _Reginald_.” 

“ _Lodge_.” He greeted equally stern, but also sounding a bit amused.

“To what do I owe this torture?” 

“Are you ever going to get to the bank or are you going to continue to punish my unbalanced books?” Reggie _was_ always straight to the point.

“However long it takes to make you jump off a bridge, Mantle.” She bit the inside of her cheek as her toes curled up in her heels.

He laughed, which irritated her only slightly. “Seriously, Ronnie. What’s the hold up?”

She stifled a sigh, feeling the tension creep up into her neck again. “I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. What’s the rush? Is the agency bothering you?”

“Not at all. I think they’d only know the transaction wasn’t completed if you or I told them, and I haven’t said a word.” She could hear him swinging his keys in his hand as he spoke, a phone habit of his. “But I’d like to close that account sooner rather than later.” 

“I’ll try to get there next week. I’m very busy.” An entire afternoon off she gifted herself today was _not_ best spent in a stuffy bank lobby. Maybe she _was_ procrastinating a bit, _but there wasn’t any particular reason for it_ , she lied to herself.

“I’m sorry I’m missing Kevin’s opening night. But you know, it would be weird to be seen—“

“I get it.” She cut him off, not wanting to hear his rationalization. “We didn’t account for friend casualties at the end of this.”

“Casualties?” He questioned. “Is this a war?”

“You know what I mean.” Her shallacked fingers dug into the cushion of the bar stool as she watched a heavyset man push a mop across the stage. Toni remained out of sight somewhere, likely making herself busy in the back office to give Veronica privacy. “They think what they think, and that’s the way it has to be. Only Betty knows and I’m going to keep it that way. _To the grave_.”

“To the grave,” he echoed. 

Veronica was reminded of the night they signed themselves away to each other — the phrase spoken then, too, as champagne glasses clinked with a finality of crystal toasts, stepping into the planned future. Three years had been a bargain, _too_ easy, but monotonous and dull. 

And as she stood up and they said their goodbyes, the void she’d been ignoring opened up, swallowing her whole once again into the inky black of _nothingness --_  like staring into a well with no reassurance that there was a bottom to be found in the darkness. It wasn’t Reggie in particular that pulled her down, just the constant reminder of what he represented in her life. 

 _Business_.

She desperately needed to find her light again.

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

Archie spotted Jughead’s beanie easily amongst the crowd out front of the Cort Theatre on Friday evening. While he excused himself to weave around people to get to the waiting pair, Betty caught sight of him and waved her arm high in the air in greeting. Archie was grateful for her invitation out tonight. He’d otherwise be holed up in his hotel room eating crappy room service and surfing cable TV.

The last two days had been eventful, to say the least. He had managed to find an apartment amongst all the chaos – a tiny loft that would be partly covered by the company while he was here — and he’d be moving into the Upper East Side next week. 

He must have met a dozen important people in the industry in this short period of time — the elevator of the office while he and Angelo were on their way up to a recording, in the studios as someone popped in to say hello, which happened _very_ frequently, or oddly enough even in the restroom — and Archie was trying desperately to memorize their names and faces for the next time they ran into one another. Between that and the shadowing he was doing with Angelo, he was feeling mentally exhausted from maintaining an expected level of observance. 

Worth it, but exhausting. 

“You made it!” All smiles, Betty gave him a quick hug before she tucked back into her fiancé’s side and tightened her coat in closer to ward off the chill in the air. Jughead pulled at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably. 

“Did you dress up for me, Jug?” Archie teased as he slapped a friendly hand on his back, recognizing how uncomfortable his friend still was out of t-shirts. Betty was restless next to Jughead, playing with her phone as she looked around, seemingly waiting for someone.

“No, he dressed up for _me_.” The voice came from somewhere behind him, and nothing could have prepared him for the feeling like ice dumping over his head, a shock to his system as everything short circuited. He needed to call for an AED because his heart had stopped with the smooth cadence of the words as the familiar voice crept into his ear. 

It couldn’t possibly be…

“V! You made it on time!” Betty broke away from Jughead to envelop his hallucination in her arms, all the while the apparition stared back at him through obsidian irises. In his dreams, he’d written dozens of more songs about her, about those dark eyes staring deep into his soul. His fingers trembled at his side, rubbing together as they itched to touch her, but he was afraid if he reached out, she’d disappear, like all those times before.

He flinched when Jughead coughed and kicked his shoe, breaking the spell and causing him to close his mouth that had been hanging open.

Veronica was absolutely one-hundred percent real and now smiling at him as Betty released her. She wore a black knee length pea coat, and her wavy black hair was down over her shoulders like the last two times he’d seen her. Her high-heeled boots lifted her up, the top of her head nearly at the level of his chin now, and he was reminded of how small she had felt in his hands last week. His heart kick started again as he swallowed painfully, watching her and Jughead embrace quickly in greeting. How could he get her out of his head when she kept showing up?

“Archie, this is my best friend Veronica,” Betty revealed. “Veronica, Archie is Jughead’s old friend from Riverdale.”

Veronica must not have told Betty what happened between them, that they _knew_ one another already. He hadn’t told Jughead about his amazing sex with a stranger, either. This was uncharted territory for him. Archie stayed silent, waiting to see how she wanted to play this.

She stuck out her slim hand, and he caught the slight tug of amusement on her lips before she spoke. “Veronica Lodge. I didn’t know they made such ruggedly handsome men in the same town as Jughead.”

_As if you don't remember_

_As if you can forget_

Archie wasn’t bothered that she wanted to pretend she _hadn’t_ previously rocked his world. No, it was definitely more _intriguing_ this way, especially now that she started off heavily flirting. He’d be following her wherever she wanted to take this. 

He let a small laugh escape before taking her hand in his. “Archie Andrews. I didn’t know he befriended angels, either.” 

“If you’re quite done…”Jughead sounded mildly bored, while Betty was still buzzing with jittery energy in Archie’s peripheral vision.

Archie dropped Veronica’s hand, fighting the impulse to pull her knuckles to his lips and instead shoving both of his own into his pockets to avoid doing anything stupid with them. He couldn’t drop her gaze, though. Could Betty and Jughead feel this — this insane static connection flying across the three feet of space between them?

“Cheryl, Toni, and Josie already went inside to get out of the cold.” Betty linked her arm through Veronica’s to start steering her through the crowd towards the doors, forcing her to break the eye contact she was maintaining with him.

But she looked back over her shoulder one more time, onyx eyes flashing at him mischievously before Betty pulled her attention forward, the women’s heads tilting together in quiet conversation.

_But tonight you're a stranger_

_Some silhouette_

Jughead slapped him on the back this time as they started to follow. “Better keep your mouth closed or you’re gonna start catching flies while you gawk.” His tone was baiting, but Archie didn’t have a good reply for it, shook silent in the turn of events. _What the hell were the odds?_

The warmth of the lobby did nothing to help the sweat accumulating in his palms now that he caught a whiff of her perfume, the breeze tying up in her hair in the doorway, and Archie followed the magnetic pull behind his naval, mesmerized by the curl of her hair and the slope of her neck.

Jughead added, “Somehow I knew _this_ would happen.”

 _You have no idea,_ Archie thought. 

 

  

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

 

“And why, praytell, did you neglect to tell me about Jughead’s friend during any of the _many_ conversations we’ve had in the last forty eight hours? I completely forgot you said you were having dinner with him Wednesday.” Veronica murmured out of the side of her mouth into Betty’s close ear as they maneuvered their way through the theater’s front doors. 

“Oh, no reason. Completely slipped my mind in fact.” Betty stated unconvincingly as they dropped their coats at the check and strolled into the seating area. 

Veronica knew what Betty was up to. She hadn’t said a word to any one of her friends about Archie and their night together, not a hint of _anything_ — but she knew Betty was likely trying to set them up. Anyone with eyes could appreciate how attractive Archie was, and Betty had not been subtle trying to push her back in the saddle.

Unsurprisingly, Veronica found herself shuffled into the seat next to Archie after saying hello to Josie, Cheryl, and Toni in the row in front of them, Betty’s arm guiding her forward into the row of red velvet lined seating after she steered Archie in first. Betty followed behind her to sit next to her, and Veronica reached over to pinch the blonde’s arm in feigned annoyance at what was going on.

“ _You’re not subtle_ ,” Veronica whispered into Betty’s hair. The blonde ignored her, leaning away towards Jughead and opening up the program to read together, leaving Archie and Veronica on their own before the show began.

Archie smelled _so good_ , and her heart hadn’t stopped racing since she spotted the back of his head in the crowd, standing next to her best friend. Veronica was honestly a little freaked out this kept happening — _of course_ they had mutual friends. _Something bizarre_ was going on. Some mystical being must be orchestrating this whole thing — probably her guardian angel Abuelita, it must be — manipulating their encounters from heaven. _What other explanation was there?_

She could feel the heat coming off him in waves, and his leg was jittery —- much like the first time she met him at the bar on that fateful Tuesday evening last week. She resisted the urge to still it with her hand.

Her flirty introduction outside was something Betty would have expected, so she went with the first line that popped into her head. The blonde would have more suspicious if Veronica had feigned lack of interest entirely. Flirty conversation was more realistic -- she hoped.

 _Nobody can know —_ she had to play this cool, not needing nor wanting the inevitable interrogation if any of her friends found out what she had done.

The lights dimmed before coming back up fully, signaling a few minutes warning for attendees to find their seats. Veronica stared down at the playbill in her hands, the word _Indecent_ in black letters like a stamp written across the blank white front, and she shoved her tongue into the side of her cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“So, _Veronica_ _Lodge_. What do you do?” 

_Smooth, Archiekins._

She turned her head to look at him, and she was mildly surprised at his ability to keep his face so neutral, jaw steady as she involuntarily squeezed her thighs together. The same jaw that she had traced with her tongue, covered in her wetness after he had feasted on her and brought her to celestial planes that ceased to exist since before him. _Fuck_.

 _Chapter Four,_ she thought. _The Time I Couldn’t Keep My Shit Together._

She tried to focus on casual friendly conversation. She couldn’t very well hide her identity any more now with her friends sitting around them. She quickly tried to recall what details Betty had shared with her about him at their celebratory lunch last week — when _he_ was only known to both of them as _Jughead’s nameless friend_ — and not give herself away with any information beyond that with things she's _not supposed to know yet._  

“I’m in the restaurant industry, owner and founder of Lodge LLC. You might have eaten at one of my establishments during your visit.”

She didn’t mean the double entendre, but the quick pull of his upper lip had her realizing the other meaning behind her words, and she arched an eyebrow at him, daring him to keep it together. 

“Which might those be?” He leaned closer as the seat next to him filled in, and his warm breath hit her cheek.

She took a deep steadying breath. “V.L., Pearl, Ground Floor, Blush Coffee, The Parc, Butcher and Singer, Hedonica…” she trailed off as his eyes grew wide, and she decided not to overwhelm him too much. “...among some others.”

“Yeah…yeah, I’ve been to a couple.” His eyes took on an awe-struck sheen that some people’s did when they realized she was _somebody_. “They were great. Amazing, in fact.”

“Thank you. What do you do?” She tucked the playbill under her thigh, crossing her legs as best she could in the tight space, too hot now, and trying to avoid kicking Josie’s seat in front of her.

“I’m a musician,” he said softly, as the lights started to dim slowly and he leaned in closer. She felt her resolve slipping. “Song writer, actually.” She had a flashback to a hero with a glass of water, cheeky shy grins, and a sweet sugar-rimmed drink...

Whispers against hidden inked stained skin. Hot breath in her ear. Maddeningly heavy waves of pleasure during hours in twisted hotel sheets.

Before the chatter around them completely died down, he spoke in the softest whisper, close enough now that only she could hear him.

“And I can’t get you out of my head.”

 

 

 

_. . . . ._

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone still out there?  
> I'm SO SORRY this took so long, but me and my Varchie gals took a hiatus to work on new AU pieces for April, and my contributed fic Someone Like You took on a life of its own. I needed to finish it before I got back to this universe, but here I am.  
> Please take me back. It won't be so long next time. 
> 
> Did you catch some fun hints in there of what's to come? If you're like me, I had to go back to reread the whole thing from the beginning so I could get back into the swing of things. 
> 
> Let me know if you're still here!
> 
> \----
> 
>  
> 
> Archie's lyrics are from Silhouette - Aquilo.  
> (borrowed from my wife’s playlist)  
> And check out Cary Brothers while you're taking a listen.
> 
> Next Chapter: Opening night continues. Toni gets close to her delivery date. Return to Riverdale.

**Author's Note:**

> For updates and sneak peaks, follow me on tumblr @tuesdayschildd.
> 
> xx  
> A.K.


End file.
